


Still hell, but whatever.

by GodsHumbleClown



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Autistic Davey, Autistic David, Boots deserves better, Cats, Child Abuse, Christmas, Crohns Disease, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Spotty learns to love and be loved, and he deserves love, because I love him, because I said so, crohn's disease, racetrack has a big family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 46,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsHumbleClown/pseuds/GodsHumbleClown
Summary: This is a continuation of my work "There's Birds Everywhere and My Stomach Hurts, this is Hell".I have not gotten better at titles.Well now there's snow and people everywhere. Still hell, but whatever. I guess its enjoyable.Christmas, family, cats, love, sprace.Author doesnt plan things. Ever.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 325
Kudos: 152
Collections: Take These Broken Wings





	1. Stuck with me (Spot)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently in the middle of what would be finals week but due to corona virus is now Finals Month, so I definitely will not be updating this every day unfortunately. 
> 
> On the bright side, I never have to take math again, even in college, because Dual Credit. 
> 
> Also, gonna try doin some fun chapter names so I dont confuse myself when I go back and reread my work because I'm a narcissist and also I like to read people's comments!!  
>  (Plz comment, makes me happy♡)

Spot wasn’t excited to take midterms. He’d missed a couple weeks of classes with the whole hospital thing, and while Spot knew he wasn’t stupid, there were some subjects, for example, math, that were definitely not his thing. 

He was exempt from the PE final due to being recently sliced open,(Public school system for once being reasonable) and Spot wasn’t really worried about English anyway. They didn’t even have midterms in band, and Mrs. Milton had (very cheerfully, dear lord the woman was always so  _ happy _ ) helped him catch up in science, so the only subjects he was particularly worried about were math, history, and Spanish. 

Well, he wasn’t worried about Spanish, because to worry about something, you had to care about it first, and Spot did not particularly care about learning a language out of a textbook. But the math teacher hated him, and history was already boring and pointless in Spot’s opinion, so he wasn’t sure how those were going to go at all. 

While Spot had been a bit more on edge than usual because of the upcoming testing, he had nothing on David. David was living on basically caffeine and stress, and Spot had heard him muttering math formulas in what little sleep he was actually getting. 

Math formulas that he was now muttering under his breath as he drove to school, and Spot was seriously getting irritated by it.

“David. Shut up. If you don’t know it by now, you won’t know it in like an hour when you have to take your stupid exam, so chill out.” 

David pulled jerkily into the parking lot, narrowly avoiding sideswiping several different cars on the way. Definitely concerning, since David normally drove like he was being tailed by a police officer with a grudge against him. 

“I’m  _ reviewing _ , Spot.” David’s teeth were clenched and he looked incredibly irritated. 

“Well, somebody’s pissy today,” Spot commented, finding a devilish enjoyment in the look on David’s face. 

“Spot, leave him alone,” Sarah chided from the back seat. “David always gets like this before tests, even though he  _ knows  _ he’s going to do  _ Just Fine,  _ right David?”

“Yesh…” David did not look like he knew that, but Spot figured he should probably stop teasing before David literally burst into flames.

Although that would be kind of funny… No, better not. 

Spot hopped out of the car as soon as it stopped, excited to head in and see Racetrack. 

The boy always sat in a little alcove in a side hall right off the hall shared with the band room. Spot was almost acting  _ happy  _ as he walked down the hall. Better be careful or he'd end up making a habit of it. Wouldn’t want that. 

"Hey Racetrack." Spot flopped down next to his boyfriend, grabbing for his hand and not even trying to keep the smile off his face. 

"Who are you and what have you done with Spot?" Racetrack accused, though he didn't seem to have a problem holding hands with an assumed imposter. 

“What, am I not allowed to be in a good mood once in a while?”

“What drugs are you on, and where can I get some?” Should Spot be offended by that? He could be offended later. For now, he was going to just act like a weird sheltered kid's idea of what a crackhead would look like. Really fucking energetic. 

“The kind of drugs where I got adopted and I’m really fucking happy about it. ”

“Huh?” Spot nearly laughed out loud at the look on Racetrack’s face. Happy, but completely befuddled. Befuddled? When did he start even  _ thinking  _ in words like  _ befuddled?  _ God, Spot was turning into  _ David.  _

“I’m staying. With Bryan and everybody,” Spot explained, trying very hard not to think about the fact that he was becoming dangerously nerdy in recent days. Racetrack absolutely lit up at the news, making Spot’s stomach flip, but in a good, squiggly kind of way. 

“Really? That’s great!” He threw his arms around Spot’s neck happily, and Spot was entirely willing to return the gesture. 

“Now you can’t escape me!”

"Like I'd want to." Spot leaned comfortably into Racetrack's arms, refusing to care that it was a stupid and soft thing to do. He was too happy to worry about his “tough guy” image right now. He hadn’t really worried about that in a while. 

Maybe Spot was going a bit soft, but with Racetrack’s warm, solid body beside him, he couldn’t be upset about that. 

“Hey, you know what this means?” 

“Hmm?” Spot was kind of zoning out, he was so comfortable. 

“Means you’ve gotta meet the rest of my family.” 

Spot did his absolute best not to groan at that. Racetrack had a big family, and Spot didn’t really like doing the whole “meet the family” thing, even with just friends. And Racetrack was more than just friends. 

“Since Christmas and stuff is going on, they’re all gonna be home, so you’ll have to meet them over break.”

“Is your sister actually going to show her face this time?” Gabriella, Racetrack’s youngest sister, had apparently been present when Spot came over last, but similarly to Bryan’s ugly cat Linda, she hadn’t felt inclined to make herself known. 

“Gabby’ll have to come out if everybody’s home. Mom makes her." Race sounded absolutely certain of that, and Spot had no reason to doubt him.

Mrs. Higgins was a bit terrifying sometimes, and Spot didn't particularly like the woman, not that he was going to tell Racetrack that. 

“So how many people is “everybody”, exactly?” 

“Maria, Izabella, Marco, Matteo, Dante, Gabriella, Nonna, my dad’s parents, his siblings, he has three, their kids, which adds five, and my uncle Luca. So like, 20-ish?”

Spot raised his eyebrows at that. 

“How are you all gonna fit in the house?” Racetrack grinned, a wonderful sight, and Spot was almost distracted from his reply. 

“We manage somehow. Besides,” he shoved Spot playfully. “This year, you’re gonna come, so it’ll be like 21.”

“Unless you miscounted,” Spot grumbled, shoving back. “Your family is stupid big.”

Racetrack smirked a bit then. “Just wait’ll you meet your extended family. Bryan’s got like a million cousins, you’ll have to meet ‘em all next summer, probably.” 

Spot had never thought about having extended family. Sure, he knew it was a thing, that his parents  _ had  _ family, but he’d never met them. And now, apparently he had about a million new relatives, all at once. That was certainly something to think about. 

But not until after his math test. No room for thinking until that was done. 


	2. Such disasters these boys are♡ (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The age old problem, what the frick are you supposed to do for a significant other around holidays????
> 
> Asked my dad's friend Elliott to explain major jewish holidays to me, thank u Elliott, 10/10 helped me a lot. 
> 
> Still cant figure out how to say purim but that's fine because I also cant say Philly without gagging on my tongue! Talking is hard and I am dumb!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just as undecided as Spot when it comes to "what should Spot do for his family for christmas" so like... any suggestions??? 
> 
> Planning out fanfics is for smart people and I have never in my life had an intelligent thought and I'm not about to start now.

Spot was pretty sure he completely failed the math exam, but he didn’t particularly care. Or he told himself he didn’t care, that is. It wasn’t so much that  _ Spot  _ cared, but he definitely worried that Bryan or somebody who actually mattered would care. 

What if whoever was in charge of deciding whether he could stay or not looked at his grades and decided he shouldn’t stay if he failed math? It was possible, and it wasn’t like getting kicked out of someone’s home because he was too stupid had never happened to Spot before. 

What if Bryan was mad? Spot had already figured out that he would  _ not  _ be able to handle that at all. God, he was becoming such a wuss. 

Spot chewed on his pencil, a substitution for chewing on himself suggested by  _ Lisa _ , his therapist. He had to admit, her ideas were usually good, but that didn't mean he  _ liked  _ the lady. He hated her and her stupid voice, and her stupid office that smelled like candles all the time, and her stupid ideas, and her stupid impressionist paintings. 

"Are you hungry, Spot?" Blink teased as he sat down. 

While it was better than biting yourself until you bled, walking into the school cafeteria gnawing on a pencil tended to make one look a bit like a nut. 

"Food is for the weak," Spot grumbled, and Sarah wasn't there to force him to eat. Neither were David, Race, or Crutchie for that matter. 

"Hey, where's like, half the table?"

"AP students have to be in a separate lunch ‘cause of exams or whatever," Jack explained, looking as irritable as Spot usually did.

“They can’t eat with us peasants cause our stupid might rub off.” 

Clearly Jack was a little bitter about not getting to eat with David today. 

“Racer didn’t even _ want  _ to take AP history. His mom made him,” Blink said. 

“Mama Higgins is nice, but scary,” Mush said in agreement. Spot couldn't really argue on that one. Well, he could argue on it; Spot could argue on anything. But he didn't feel like it. 

"I just don't see why they can't have all the exams at the same time," Jack whined, making Spot almost wish he'd gotten food, just to throw it at him. 

Mush attempted to placate Jack by asking what he'd gotten David for Christmas, which launched a long rant about how Jack "couldn't ever figure out what he was supposed to do for David since he technically celebrated the holiday but he's Jewish so is it insensitive to get him something or not?" and "should he get hannukah wrapping paper or would that be weird and patronizing, and he should just go with reindeer since hannukah is apparently not a big deal," and "why couldn't Purim happen in December?"

Spot was beginning to realize that Jack somehow managed to be  _ more  _ irritating when David wasn't there to calm him the fuck down. 

That did bring up an issue that Spot hadn't thought of though…

"Shit, I guess I have to do something for everybody for Christmas too."

Family was an inconvenience. Now he had to actually  _ care  _ about things. 

"Fuck, I don't even know what David  _ likes,"  _ Spot grumbled. 

"Why are you worrying about it? It's not like he'll hate you if it isn't perfect," Mush pointed out. 

"Yeah, you're acting like he's your girlfriend or something and you gotta be all romantic," added Blink, leaning his head on Mush's shoulder to emphasize the romance aspect. 

"I would rather die than date David."

Spot said, shuddering at the thought of being romantic with...his brother? Wow, Spot had a brother now. Two, actually. And a sister. It was weird. 

"Hey! That's the love of my life you're talking about there!" Jack protested. 

Spot ignored him, shaking the weird sappy thoughts from his head.

"What does David even LIKE?"

"Me, pasta, books, clarinet," Jack counted on his fingers. "Me, games on his phone where he gets to farm, birds, his stupid evil devil cat, did I mention me?"

"You are such a narcissist," Mush laughed. 

"I'll just commission a life size portrait of Jack then. I'm sure he'll love it," Spot said sarcastically. Why was he stressing out about this so much?

"Oh!" Jack snapped his fingers. "Fuzzy things. Davey loves real soft, fuzzy things, like fake fur and stuff." 

"Thank you!" Spot said, exasperated after only five minutes of lunch without Racetrack there. This was at least something to go on. 

He was suddenly really stressed out, even more stressed than he was during the math test, if that was possible. 

And David wasn't even the only one he had to worry about!

He could just give David a fucking area rug or something, but what about everybody else?

Sarah liked music, obviously, so something band related? What did band kids even like? Spot was a kid  _ in  _ band, not a band kid. 

Bryan had his weird bird obsession, Spot could work with that, probably. 

Spot was just as lost with Les as he was with David, and it wasn't like he could call up some elementary schooler and ask what Les liked. 

Spot avoided little kids pretty much at all costs, and as a result, he had no idea what a nine year old would even want. Spot remembered really liking matchbox cars when he was younger, but he hadn’t exactly had many options as far as toys and stuff went. He and Boots would have played with anything, cars, marbles, rocks, Skittery’s shoes. Whatever was available that wouldn’t get them in trouble. 

Fuck, and what about  _ Racetrack?  _ He'd never been in a relationship around a major holiday before. What did you do for that? Were they supposed to celebrate somehow? Racetrack's interests made no logical sense half the time. 

Maybe Spot should eat something he wasn't supposed to and just drop dead. That would solve all these problems. 

While logically he knew it wasn't going to be that big of a deal, Spot, for reasons he couldn't explain, suddenly felt like it really mattered that he got it right.

No, he did know why it mattered. It mattered because this would be the first Christmas ever where he'd actually have family. Family that wanted him around and wouldn't just shove him up away in a separate room so they could celebrate. 

Actual, real family. They had to know he appreciated it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a major depressive episode (may have been an autism thing, idk because I havent seen my therapist in ages due to corona so I cant ask her) yesterday and spent like a full 3 hours walking around the block over and over again until I literally could not walk anymore because my brain was like "we cannot stop walking" and I was like "aight I guess you know what's best". 
> 
> Mental illnesses be wack. Also now my arthritis is like "what if we die? Right now??? Would be fun!!!"
> 
> BUT I never have to take math ever again, just failed my final but it's fine because it was only worth 3% of the grade!!!!
> 
> I love u all who read or comment or anything at all. You are very appreciated ♡♡♡♡♡


	3. What's in a Name? (David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brotherly love♡  
> Tw for mentions of abuse. 
> 
> I think MY therapist is pretty cool, so take THAT, Spotty. ♡♡♡♡

“David?”

Th e almost timid voice snapped David out of what Jack teasingly referred to as his "nerd trance". 

David looked up from his chemistry textbook to see Spot standing awkwardly in his doorway. The boy shifted a bit, looking somewhat uncomfortable. 

“Yeah?” David was willing to talk with Spot, of course, but only if he could stay at least half focused on his studies. Just because he’d taken the final he was most worried about didn’t mean he could just slack off on the rest of them.

“Are you a Denton, or a Jacobs?” Spot asked, moving beside the bed and crouching to sit on David’s carpet with his arms on his knees. 

David looked up from reading about stoichiometry, also known as the bane of his existence, in surprise. How had that topic never come up before? His name, not stoichiometry. 

“I’m both. Jacobs-Denton. We hyphenated it. Why?”

“Cause Bryan wants to know if I want to change mine.” Spot was trying to sound casual, David could tell, but David wasn’t stupid. 

He could see the wheels turning nervously in the boy's eyes as he thought. Clearly this was stressing him out. 

That was fair. It wasn't exactly a normal decision to have the world force you to make, at least not when you're fourteen. 

"I just… I can't tell what he wants me to do," Spot admitted. 

"Hey." David shut his textbook only sort of reluctantly. This was way more important than chemistry.

"It doesn't matter what anybody else wants. What do you want?" 

Spot looked uncertain. "I don't know. I've always been a Conlon, you know? Changing it just sounds so… real. Not that I don't want it to be real," he said hurriedly. "It's just…" he trailed off. 

"It's a lot. I get it." David did get it. He and Sarah had to decide too, when they were little. They were so young, the biggest concern Bryan seemed to have was whether or not they'd be able to spell D-E-N-T-O-N easily enough, and neither of the oldest Jacobs siblings had been particularly concerned with his opinion anyway, no matter how much they loved and appreciated the man. 

But still, David did understand what Spot was dealing with. It was a weird decision to have to make. Keep your original name, or take the one your new family has. 

David and Sarah had decided to not decide, and just keep both names, but they had been close with their birth parents. They _wanted_ to remember.

Spot never seemed to talk about his birth family at all, except the occasional snide comment that he cut off immediately after, like he didn’t really mean to bring up the subject. 

As if Spot could read David’s mind, he spoke again, though a bit hesitantly, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to be asking what he wanted to know. 

“David, what happened to your parents? Why’d you guys come live here?” 

There was genuine curiosity written across his face, and while David wasn't exactly fond of this kind of conversation, he couldn't exactly refuse to answer, not when Spot was actually and genuinely trying to talk to him. 

“They died,” David said, trying not to be too blunt about it. Even after almost ten years, it still hurt to think about sometimes. 

“Car accident. Les was a baby, so he doesn’t remember them at all. Sarah and I were six. They went out for a date for their anniversary, left us with a babysitter. Never came back.” He tried not to choke on the words. He hadn't even really gotten to say goodbye. They were there, and then, all of a sudden… they just weren't. 

“Bryan was like, the last resort before splitting us up,” David said with a stab of pain at just the thought of losing his siblings. Spot nodded like he understood. 

“This was my last chance,” he admitted. “I’m kinda known for being a problem.” 

“You’re not a problem.” David felt the need to defend Spot, even against himself.

“The hell I’m not.” Spot grumbled, fiddling with the strands in the carpet, but his eyes held traces of a smile. 

“Well, now you’re our problem,” David said with a smile. To his surprise, Spot actually returned it. David was always surprised when Spot acted all normal and happy. He had a nice smile, when he felt like showing it. 

“So, I told you about us,” David pointed out. “What about you? What’s your tragic backstory?”

Spot’s face turned dark in an instant, like someone pulled the blinds shut on his entire world. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Okay,” David backtracked quickly. “You don’t have to. Sorry, I didn’t mean-” 

Spot sighed, interrupting David’s nervous stammering. 

"Its... it's fine, David. Just, fucking  _ Lisa _ keeps trying to get me to talk about it, and I hate it."

"Lisa's cool," David protested. He liked the therapist; she was nice.

Spot scowled at that. 

"No, she is not. And if you think your therapist is  _ cool,  _ then there's definitely a reason you have to see a therapist."

David laughed, and Spot cracked a little smile before staring down at his hands. 

He took a deep breath, not looking up as he spoke. 

"I was four. When I got taken away. My parents, they didn't-" Spot paused, biting his lip. "They never really wanted me. I was always just… in their way, I guess. It just…" he trailed off, hesitating before continuing. 

"Like, look." He tugged the edge of his t-shirt aside, showing his collarbone. 

Tiny scars dotted his skin, faded, but still there.

"I was just their fucking ashtray." Spot was avoiding David's eyes.

David stared at the spots. 

_ Spot.  _

Oh, God. Those horrible little scars. Poor Spot. David's heart ached for the little kid Spot had been, and it ached all over again for the still fairly little teenager he was now. 

"It's been ten years. Ten miserable fucking years, and I still can't forget about them." 

“Ten years ago? We came to live here ten years ago,” David said. 

Spot just stared at the ceiling, though his eyes shifted a bit, almost looking at David, but not quite. 

“I wish…” David trailed off. It was stupid. 

“What?” Spot turned to face him. 

“I just wish things had been different, you know?” Spot still looked confused, so apparently David would have to actually explain.    
“I wish you could have lived here from the start, like me and Sarah and Les,” he explained. "Then you could've not had to deal with anything else… like that." 

David had no idea what Spot had gone through, aside from what he'd been told, and that wasn't much. Even if nobody had ever hurt him again physically, there was no way he could really be completely okay having no family for ten years.

Spot looked at him, face drawn and unreadable. David shifted off his desk chair and sat on the floor next to Spot. 

"I wish things were different before, but they're not. I'm just glad you're here now."

Spot gave him a little smile, and David hesitantly reached to put an arm around Spot's shoulders, like he would if this were Les. 

Spot didn't freak out, didn't push him away. He just let David hug him. 

David couldn't take away all the bad that happened in the past, but he could make the future good. Spot deserved that much. 


	4. Leprechauns Hate Christmas (Denton)

"I  _ like  _ Christmas. It's fun!" Les declared in response to Sean's grumbling that he hated the holiday with a burning passion. Sean insisted he hated many things, but Bryan had begun to realize that he was a lot more interested in the world than he liked to pretend. 

"Isn't Christmas like, not kosher?" 

"Sean, kosher only applies to food," David corrected. 

"Well how the fu- heck am I supposed to know what's kosher or not? I'm a leprechaun."

"Cuz you're short?" Sarah teased, petting the top of Sean's head affectionately. She was probably fortunate not to lose a finger. 

"Sarah, I will stab you in the throat without hesitation or guilt. Its cuz I'm Irish. Fuck off and quit touching me."

"Spot!" David covered Les' ears defensively. 

Bryan smiled as he listened to the kids chatter. It was amazing how far Sean had come. When he'd first arrived, he spoke only when absolutely necessary, and even then, it was never what would be considered child-friendly language. 

And sure, he slipped up frequently and said things Bryan would  _ prefer  _ Les not hear, but the boy was at talking, and about normal things. 

Granted, it would be nice if Les didn't come to Bryan asking what "cuntfucker" meant, but if Sean finally felt safe and happy, that was enough for Bryan. 

They could work on the language thing later, and besides, it was clear the boy was trying. 

Sean had been a bit quieter than usual today, which Bryan attributed to the fact that he'd had his medication upped recently, and like all the previous changes in dosage had done, this one seemed to make the boy sleepy more often than not. 

David was explaining another one of the Denton/Jacobs (and soon to be Denton/Jacobs/Conlon) family traditions, with Sarah and Les interjecting occasionally. 

"They do this thing at Bryan's work, 'cause it's a college, and it's a holiday thing. It's called Light Up The Lake, there's candles and stuff and we sing songs and it's really awkward for all us non-Christians for a bit-" 

Sarah interrupted then. 

"But it's still really fun. There's food, and crafts, and sometimes animals. You should bring Racetrack along."

"David always brings Jack, and they hafta pretend they don't spend the whole time kissing!" Les piped up with an impish little grin. 

Sean cracked a grin at that, and Bryan felt his heart get that much warmer at the sight. 

"Les!" David squawked. "We do not!" David's relationship with Jack was hardly a secret, but Bryan was happy to respect their privacy, as long as they kept things safe. Preferably PG rated. 

"See! He's real bad at pretending!" Les declared as David's face turned a very Christmassy shade of bright red. 

Bryan couldn't help but smile. He loved to see his kids happy and normal, even if they were bickering. That was how normal siblings acted. 

Before a full blown argument about whether or not David spent too much time kissing his boyfriend broke out, he should probably interrupt. 

"Sean, if you want to bring Racetrack, you're absolutely welcome to ask him along. The more the merrier." Sean nodded, although Bryan couldn't tell if he was pleased or not. 

The boy oftentimes was still difficult to read, and right now he was hiding his feelings quite well. 

His mood could shift at the drop of a hat, and they did have to be careful of that. Some of it was adjusting to the medication, and some of it was just Sean. When Sean got angry, he was like a little firecracker, ready to explode. 

That did remind him of something fairly unrelated to any of the conversation… 

"Sean, can I talk to you?" 

Bryan hated the way he stiffened, just a tiny bit. It was only noticeable if you were looking closely, but with that little twitch, Bryan could clearly see the way Sean always assumed the worst. 

"What's up?" His voice was casual, but Bryan hadn’t missed that nervous twitch. 

"Have you given any thought to what you want your last name to be?"

He didn't want to pressure the boy, but Jonathan wanted an answer, and once they got the name situation figured out, they'd be one step closer to Sean being an official member of their family. 

The poor boy always seemed to think he was in trouble for something, so hearing that question made a bit of the tension fade away as he realised he hadn't done anything wrong. 

"Can I do, like, what David and Les and Sarah did? With both the names?" 

He looked a bit timid, as if Bryan might somehow be offended by his decision. Bryan gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Of course you can, kiddo. Sean Conlon-Denton?” 

The boy nodded, visibly relaxing. 

“Alright, I’ll tell Jonathan, and he can get the paperwork more in order. One step closer to making things official.” Sean returned Bryan’s smile at that, though the boy was a bit more hesitant. 

“I’ll call him now. Maybe you should go save your cat from Les’ affection.” The excitable young boy had apparently decided that Jenny was in the mood for a hug. 

Jenny did not seem to share this opinion, and Bryan, looking at her wide eyes and flat ears, obvious signs of distress, made a mental note to go over feline body language with Les again before he got himself mauled by a less forgiving animal. David’s cat Scotch, for example, was not the youngest boy’s biggest fan by any means, and had been exceptionally grumpy lately. 

“Jenny’s not  _ my  _ cat. I hate cats,” Sean said over his shoulder, heading to rescue the cat that was certainly not his pet. Absolutely not, even as she settled around his shoulders like a big fluffy scarf. 

“I think Jenny’s decided that she is your cat.”

Sean snorted at that. 

"Jenny, you can do better, come on. Get some standards." He rubbed the cat's ears, causing the little feline to produce a sound to rival any lawnmower. 

Bryan smiled at the sight. David and Sarah playfully arguing about Jack Kelly, Les showing off his wobbly cartwheeling abilities, (what had caused that to come up? They'd been talking about Jack, not gymnastics. The mind of Les was certainly a mystery.) and Sean watching, smiling, with a fluffy spotted animal draped around his neck. 

Things couldn't stay this way forever, as much as he would have liked them to, but for now, everything was peaceful, everything was good.


	5. Nuns for DAYS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sprace fluff, as well as that surreal moment when you realize that your parents have lives outside of what you see, and reality kinda just folds into itself. 
> 
> TW for anxiety attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not proofread this at all, so like... if its unreadable, sorry. 
> 
> Major depressive state today, so like,  
> 《☆!sad vibes!☆》
> 
> Also, unrelated, I ADORE (most) nuns (Sisters, to use the more respectful term). The ones my dad works with are like, amazingly accepting. Marilyn is named after one of them.
> 
> Sister Marilyn, if ur reading this... why? Please, go read the bible or literally anything else.

“Bryan, what do you even  _ do  _ here?” Spot asked as they pulled into the parking lot of the university. 

Spot hadn't actually been to Bryan's work before. He'd kind of assumed he just always worked from home, but of course that didn't make sense. 

He thought Bryan was a writer or something, but then Sarah said something about him teaching, and Spot was very confused. 

“I teach. Feature Writing and News Reporting.” 

Spot hopped out of the front seat, which he was always given because nobody wanted him to puke all over the back seat. 

“So why aren’t you always here?”

Bryan was at home just about every time Spot had been, though to be fair, during marching band they’d gotten home late most afternoons. 

“College classes don’t meet every day,” Bryan explained, reaching out to stop Les from running into oncoming traffic. “I’m here Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then more if any other work needs done on campus.” 

“Work like what?”

Spot wasn’t sure  _ why  _ he was so curious, but he really just wanted to know what Bryan did when he wasn’t being… dad-like. 

“Grading, copying, boring office stuff mostly,” Bryan explained.

“Look, there’s Jack and Racetrack.”

Spot turned to where he was pointing, and was very nearly tackled by one Racetrack Higgins, who had been driven by Jack to meet them at the university. 

Jack and David had a much more reasonable, much more  _ boring  _ way of greeting one another, which involved both of them walking and meeting in the middle like a bunch of nerds. 

"Eeeewwwwww!" Les squealed upon seeing David and Jack kiss each other, not even like a gross kiss, just barely touching, but Spot agreed. "Eeew is right, Les. David, quit corrupting the child." 

That made Racetrack laugh, which was really the end goal in anything ever, as far as the hopeless romantic in Spot was concerned. 

He grabbed Racetrack's hand, further repulsing his little brother, (brother! Spot had brothers! No, shut up, sappy brain. Bad thoughts. Don't think like that until everything is finalized.) and headed inside. 

What Bryan had failed to mention was that this was apparently a religious university, meaning there were loads of nuns, absolutely everywhere. “Nuns for  _ DAYS _ ”, as Mush would probably say, very confusingly, as Mush often did. 

Spot immediately went on the defensive, clutching Racetrack's hand as tight as he could and willing himself not to hide behind Bryan like he so desperately wanted to. 

"Oh, Bryan! How are you?" Spot jumped at the suddenly very near voice, which most likely came from the older nun who was smiling and gripping Bryan's hand affectionately. 

“Sister, it’s good to see you again.” He hugged the woman, then turned to Spot. 

“Sean, this is Sister Marilyn. Sister, this is the newest addition to the family, Sean.” 

Spot tried not to glare at her, he really did. But Spot didn’t like religious people, and religious people didn’t like him. They’d started it by calling his existence a sin, so it wasn’t like it was  _ Spot’s  _ fault.

Wait, he was supposed to be talking to her, wasn’t he? Wow, this was hell. Spot’s stomach hurt. Maybe he’d just die and solve all their problems. 

Racetrack, luckily, seemed capable of covering for him.    
“And I’m Sean’s boyfriend.” He offered a hand, which surprisingly, the woman accepted, not afraid of getting his gay sinner germs all over herself. 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet both of you.” She was still smiling, and it seemed genuine. Maybe this woman was senile, and didn’t realize they were both guys. 

“I’ll talk with you all later,” she said with a smile, patting Les on the head. D

“Okay, what’s with that?” Spot accused Bryan. 

“What’s with what”

Spot nodded at the woman’s retreating back. “I thought  _ they  _ didn’t like gay people.”

“Well, what are they supposed to do about it?” Sarah grinned. “Be mad?”

Bryan explained in a much less snarky way. “Marilyn always says that your sexuality says nothing about your heart. She’s actually in charge of the Gay/Straight Alliance here on campus.”

"Come on, guys!" Les said, tugging at Sarah impatiently. 

"Let's go!" Spot had no idea where exactly they were going, but he supposed he was going to follow. 

\--------------------

After being force-fed sugar cookies by both Bryan and Sarah, Spot was quickly becoming a bit fed up with holiday cheer. And food. They removed part of his  _ intestine _ . Where the hell was all this food supposed to go?

"Hey," Spot said, trying to distract Bryan from insisting he eat more.

"What are those bags for?" 

There were bunches of paper bags placed all around the man made lake beside the plaza area, and frankly, they looked like a fire hazard, considering people were now filling them with candles. 

"They're luminarias. Lanterns." 

_ Yes.  _ Bryan was distracted from the fact that Spot was handing any food he was given over to Racetrack and Les immediately. The pair would make a great garbage disposal service.

"Thus the name  _ Light up the Lake _ ."

They were pretty, Spot had to admit. He was surprised to find that he was actually  _ enjoying  _ himself. 

And then the  _ singing  _ started. 

Spot had no real problem with singing, as long as he wasn't expected to join in. Or listen. Or be nearby. 

(He didn't even know the  _ words _ , Les. Stop telling him to  _ sing.) _

Spot turned to Racetrack to grumble about how annoying happy people were, but immediately all issues with holiday cheer were banished. Racetrack was acting like David did when it got too loud. Jumpy, gasping for air, rubbing his arms nervously. 

"Race, you good?" 

Racetrack shook his head. He was shaking, and Spot suspected it wasn't just from the cold. 

"Okay, come on." Spot grabbed his hand and pushed through the entirely too cheerful crowd. When David got all panicky, he liked to get away. Hopefully that would work with Racetrack. 

He got them away from the crowd successfully, ducking behind a giant conifer tree. 

"What's wrong? Was it too loud? Too crowded?" Spot had to know, and then he could make sure it never ever happened again. 

"It's stupid." Racetrack looked away. 

"No, really. What is it?"

Racetrack sighed. "I, uh, checked my grades for my science class on my phone. Let's just say my mom is gonna be  _ pissed. _ "

"Oof. Yeah. I know how that feels. I totally failed the math final, " Spot admitted. 

That alone seemed to relax Racetrack just a tiny bit. 

"I doubt Bryan's going to care though." 

"Yeah," Spot agreed. Bryan already knew, and he'd just offered to help Spot himself. ("Writing's not the  _ only _ thing I'm good for, you know")

"Well, if your mom gets all pissy, just let me know. I can make it look like an accident."

"Please do not."

So murder was off the table. Racetrack's smile was back, and that was what mattered. 

He took Racetrack's hand in his and they walked alongside the lake, avoiding goose shit and muddy patches of snow. 

Spot could hear the singing from the far side of the lake, just barely. 

"Racetrack?"

"Hm?"

"I…" Spot paused, not sure how to even begin. 

"I really- I'm really glad that you… exist. Here, right now. With me." 

Possibly the lamest love declaration Spot had ever seen, not that he had much experience with that kind of thing. But Racetrack didn't mind. Racetrack leaned close, uncharacteristically gentle and delicate. 

Something soft, almost… chaste. Chaste? Where had that word even come from? It felt right though. This was simple, it was pure. It was good. 

His lips were warm, his hands cold. 

Spot shivered; was it the wind or Racetrack's touch? 

Spot looked out at the lake, luminarias dotting the bank with a glittery, almost magical glow. It was beautiful, and even Spot could admit that. 

He could be sappy this year. For the first time, Spot had plenty to be happy about. 

He had  _ everything  _ to be happy about. 


	6. A squishy marshmallow covered in poisonous spines and a saxophone playing monkey fell in love, the end♡ (Racetrack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter because I ran out of things to say. :)
> 
> Is anyone reading this anymore? I have no idea! The self conscious side of my brain says "no way! Why would anyone read this trash??" And then the other side of my brain says "shut up and help us write, you loser brain!"
> 
> I am enjoying writing it, and I have an idea for something resembling action/plot, so if someone is reading this, then know that there is in fact a very loose plan in the works!
> 
> Disclaimer, I do not speak italian.  
> Tw for extremely brief mention of a panic attack, like he literally mentions it once.

"Anthony Joseph Higgins, this is unacceptable."

Racetrack winced at the use of his full name immediately upon entering the house. 

"Hey mom. Nice to see you too. The Christmas thing was great."

_ Only had a panic attack because of you one time,  _ he thought bitterly as he hung up his coat. 

His mother didn't get it. She never did. He didn't understand biology.  _ Couldn't  _ understand biology. And it wasn't like she'd ever offered to help Racetrack figure it out. 

No, it was always "try harder, Anthony", "stop wasting yourself, Anthony", "I know you can do better, Anthony."

"Anthony. A seventy-two? It's biology, Anthony. I expect more from you." 

_ Anthony, Anthony, Anthony. Never Racetrack, and usually not even Tony.  _

"A seventy-two is still a C," Racetrack mumbled. 

"C  _ minus.  _ You're better than that."

"I did good on all my other stuff!" He defended. 

"I just… got behind in Bio."

"Well, if you weren't always hanging around with that Conlon boy-" 

Now that made Racetrack mad. Spot wasn't  _ that Conlon boy.  _ He was  _ Spot, _ amazing, perfect, wonderful Spot. 

"He was in the hospital! What was I supposed to do?" 

Racetrack knew he was getting dangerously close to actually making his mother mad, but he couldn't help but argue back this time. This was way too important. 

"He has other friends, and so do you. I really don't see why you have to take all of his troubles on personally. You need to look out for yourself too, Anthony."

"I  _ like  _ Spot!" Racetrack burst out, ignoring Mrs. Higgins' genuine concern for his well being.

" _ Sean  _ is trouble. I understand, he's been through a lot. I really do. But you can be friends with him and not get too close."

Racetrack scowled. He  _ wanted  _ to be close to Spot, more than anything in the world. Really, Racetrack more than  _ liked _ Spot, but his mom wouldn't want to hear him say he loved a guy he'd only been dating for a few weeks. 

Spot was smart and amazing and he had a wickedly sharp sense of humor, and Racetrack was beginning to find that, deep down, Spot was a squishy little marshmallow of a person who just so happened to be covered in poisonous spines. 

Why couldn't his mom see past the stabby exterior? She didn't even  _ try.  _

"You will not see him unless you get your grades up." His mother looked serious, but Racetrack wasn't about to just let her take Spot away from him. 

"That's not fair! How am I supposed to get my grades up when we only have like, two days left of school this year?" Finals were almost over, so whatever grades he had were basically what he had. 

"You should have thought of that before now, shouldn't you?" Racetrack opened his mouth to argue more, but Nonna, who for the beginning of the argument had been crocheting quietly at the kitchen table, beat him to it. 

"Rosa,  _ tesoro,  _ come now," Nonna, wonderful Nonna, reasoned. 

"He can worry about his grades in January. For now, why not let them be together? That Sean is a nice boy. He's quite good for our Anthony." 

She gave Racetrack a warm smile over her tangle of yarn, and he had never in his life appreciated anyone more. 

Racetrack would  _ never  _ complain about Nonna's forgetfulness ever again, even if she asked him for help finding her glasses ninety times a day for the rest of his life. 

"Alright!" Mrs. Higgins threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine, Mamma. You win. But Anthony, once the new semester starts, I expect you to keep your grades at acceptable levels, alright?" She said sternly. 

"Thanks Mom!" Racetrack threw his arms around her, immediately forgetting that he was supposed to be holding a grudge. 

Mrs. Higgins sighed, hugging him back.

"You're smart, Tony. Don't waste it." Her voice was unusually affectionate, and Racetrack realized just how much he loved his mother. 

"I won't, Mama. Thank you."

_ Smart. Mom thinks I'm smart. _

He'd never been the "smart one" before. Racetrack was the goofy kid, the fun, irresponsible, crazy one. Never smart. 

"And Anthony,  _ scimmietta?" _

Racetrack looked up at his childhood nickname. Mrs. Higgins hadn't called him her "little monkey" since elementary school. He didn't realize how much he'd missed the nickname.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself too, okay? Don't let yourself be hurt, no matter how much you love him." 

"I promise, Mama."

"I love you, Anthony. You know that, right?"

Racetrack leaned happily into his mother's warmth. He was lucky, he realized. So very lucky to have a mom who cared about him, even if her way of showing it was incredibly irritating most of the time. 

"I love you too, Mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Google...  
> Tesoro = treasure  
> Scimmietta = little monkey


	7. Jack and David, sitting in a bush...♡♡ (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for animal illness
> 
> Also, it is my dog's birthday today! She just turned 3!!!!

"Spot, what'd you think?" Sarah asked as soon as they got home. 

"It was pretty cool," Spot admitted. "I would have preferred you  _ not  _ force me to eat that much, and I think I'm going to go puke now, but other than that, it was fun."

"Didja see the llamas they had?" Les asked, somehow still full of energy in spite of it being almost ten thirty, much later than he usually stayed up.

"Yeah. They stink." 

Les laughed at that. 

"Hey, one thing I did notice," Spot added casually, sneaking a sideways look at David. 

"I didn't see David or Jack much that whole time. I wonder why that was?"

Sarah snorted as she tried not to laugh, and Les didn't even bother to contain his laughter. 

"Plenty of dark corners, bushes, trees. Lots of privacy," Spot added. 

"They were  _ kissing _ !" Les declared gleefully. 

"We were  _ not _ . Well, not the  _ whole  _ time," David grumbled, but he was smiling. 

David was actually pretty cool when he was relaxed, which Spot had to admit, was definitely a nice change from the David he'd first met. 

"I'm going upstairs, where nobody is  _ bullying  _ me," David announced, dramatically flicking his hair that wasn't really long enough to flick.

Sarah graciously waited for her brother to be all the way upstairs before bursting out laughing. 

"Spot, you are  _ terrible _ !" She giggled. Spot smirked. 

"Took you long enough to figure that out." 

Bryan shook his head, but he was smiling too. Spot couldn't believe just how  _ nice  _ everything had been. 

And then a horrible shriek broke the happy calm, making everyone jump in surprise. 

“Bryan!” 

David sounded seriously freaked out. Bryan jumped to his feet, and Spot, Sarah, and Les followed.

David sat in his room, clutching his cat to his chest. Scotch, David's fluffy old cat, was twitching and drooling all over himself, eyes glazed and vacant. 

David looked like he was about to cry. 

"Bryan, I came in and he was just like this, what do I do? Bryan-"

"David, kiddo, calm down. We'll take him to the emergency vet." 

Bryan took charge efficiently, leading David and his limp little bundle out to the car and calling the vet's office to let them know he was coming. 

“Sarah, Spot, watch Les.” 

With a slam of the door, David, Bryan, and Scotch left. 

Spot looked at Sarah and Les, not sure what to think. Les looked like he was going to cry, and Sarah looked like she was trying really hard not to freak out. 

Spot then realized that Bryan hadn’t called him Sean like he always did. Spot couldn't decide if he liked that or not, but he knew for sure that he liked absolutely nothing else about this situation. 

His stomach really hurt again. Probably from being forced to eat. That must be it. No way was he worried about David’s evil Satan cat. Why would he worry about Scotch? He hated Scotch. 

Spot stretched out on his stomach on the couch, joined immediately by Jenny, who thought the base of his spine was just the best possible place for a nap. Well, apparently he wasn’t going to move for awhile. 

Spot shifted a bit to get comfortable, letting his face rest in his arms. It had honestly been a pretty good day, at least until the whole Scotch thing had happened. That wasn't good. 

Maybe that was just how it was always going to be. Things would seem great, and then they just wouldn't be anymore. It would certainly fit the theme of Spot's life. He could never keep a good thing going for very long. 

_ Don't think like that _ , Spot ordered to himself. If he thought like that, he'd never be able to enjoy anything. For now, he'd just focus on Jenny, soft and warm on his back, and the fact that things were good now, whatever happened. 

Footsteps approached the couch, and Sarah sat on the floor next to his head. 

“You okay?” She sounded tentative, and the relief was obvious when Spot turned to face her. 

“Oh, thank God. I thought you were crying, and I absolutely do not know how to deal with that right now. If you cry, I will cry, and then Les will cry, and then we’ll all be crying, and it will suck,” Sarah continued to talk nervously, and Spot didn’t interrupt. 

It looked like she needed something to occupy herself, and most likely he could just tune her out. 

Les wandered in then, carrying Lenny draped lazily under one arm and a very freaked out Linda clutched under the other like some strange alien trapped on earth. 

"Sarah, where's Gus?" The boy's lip was trembling as he tried to complete his inventory of all the other cats. 

Spot twisted awkwardly, trying to turn over and not flip Jenny onto the floor. 

"Let's find him," he said, pulling his cat into his arms. 

Realistically, he knew Gus was fine. But Les obviously needed to see that. He was just doing it for Les. Spot didn't care, he insisted to himself. 

They finally found the tabby cat sleeping peacefully on Bryan's bed. It was then that Spot realized he'd never actually been in Bryan's room before. 

It was pretty much as expected. Birds, sure, and bookshelves, a map of… Spot wasn't sure what that map was of. Some very old looking model airplanes and other knickknacks. 

Sarah scooped Gus off the bedspread and kissed his nose, receiving an indignant "mrrp!" In reply. 

"How about we put on a movie," she suggested, probably hoping to distract Les. 

After Sarah's absolute horror in learning that Spot hadn't actually seen any of the Harry Potter movies, they all curled up on the couch with a pile of blankets and cats. Spot didn't even complain that Les was cuddled up right next to him and invading his personal space. 

Spot half marveled at the relatively impressive 2001 special effects, and half judged them. 

Considering the movie was older than he was, he really couldn't find much issue with it. 

By the time Harry actually got around to actually going to the wizard school Sarah insisted the movie was about, Spot's arm was starting to fall asleep. Unfortunately, Les had actually fallen asleep, directly on top of said arm. 

Sarah was looking at them with a weird, sad little smile. 

Spot didn't need to ask what that was about; he kind of felt the same thing. 

He turned back to the TV just in time to see McGonagall turn into a cat. 

So many cats. 

Spot's eyelids felt heavy, and he suddenly realized just how tired he was. He could close his eyes, just for a little, he told himself. 

He wouldn't fall asleep. 

Probably.

And it would be just fine if he happened to do so by accident. 


	8. "I loved how you loved him" (Spot&David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW, animal death
> 
> I may have cried while writing this, idk why I do this to myself. 
> 
> Also my first ever dog died of a stroke 3 years ago today, so like.... Äm Çŕý???
> 
> So here's some Javid, because that always makes me feel a bit happier.

Spot woke up and nearly fell off the couch at the sound of the front door opening. He glanced at the clock on his phone. 12:36. He'd been asleep for a little while, but not too long. 

Les, who by some miracle was still asleep, had migrated from his arm over to Sarah's lap. 

Spot felt sick as soon as he saw David and Bryan. 

David was an absolute mess, and Scotch was nowhere to be seen. 

"Oh, no…" Sarah whispered.

David turned away, sniffling as he hurried up the stairs. 

Bryan nodded sadly. "It was a stroke. Poor old guy was suffering, there was nothing else we could do. He lived a good long life."

Sarah was crying a little, but Les, luckily, was still fast asleep. Somebody would have to tell him when he woke up, Spot realized, feeling kind of sick to his stomach. 

There was a knock at the door, and Bryan went to answer it. Who the hell was at their house this late?

“Where’s David,” a familiar voice demanded as soon as the door opened.

“Jack, it’s after midnight,” Bryan said, clearly tired. 

“Do I look like I give a fuck? Davey needs me.” That was uncharacteristically rude for Jack. He was usually super friendly with Bryan. Apparently when David's happiness was the subject at hand, Jack didn't see fit to let anyone stop him from doing whatever he thought was necessary.

Jack slipped past the man and up the stairs, completely ignoring all else. 

Bryan sighed, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Spot shifted, not sure what he was supposed to do. Should he say something? He felt like he should say something. But what? 

He couldn't fix anything, because there was nothing specifically  _ wrong.  _ Animals died, that's just how the world worked. 

It was still sad. 

Scotch had been important to David, Spot knew. The cat was mean and grumpy and Spot hadn't exactly  _ liked  _ him, but still… he was family. 

Spot didn't know what to say, so he settled for just leaning on Bryan's side. He liked being close to someone when things sucked, so maybe Bryan would appreciate it too. 

The man sighed heavily, and Sarah reached for his arm. 

Bryan looked up with a sad little smile. 

"Well, we'll have to have a proper funeral tomorrow. We can bury him in the garden."

They'd brought him  _ home _ ? That was kind of weird. 

"Is David, like, okay?" Spot asked. He hated to admit it, but he was worried about the older boy. 

"He'll be okay," Bryan promised, putting an arm around Spot's waist. "Just give him some time, alright?"

Spot nodded. He could do that. 

Things were gonna be okay this time. 

Bryan promised, and Bryan didn't lie to him. 

* * *

David held his cat close in the sterile vet's office. 

"Hey, Scotchy, it's okay." He tried to sound calm, to make sure Scotch wasn't afraid. He had to make sure Scotch passed feeling safe and loved, not frightened. 

David owed him that much. 

It only took a few moments, and then Scotch was still. Lifeless. He'd never move again. 

David buried his face in the soft fur on Scotch's neck, vaguely aware of the vet talking to Bryan. 

"If you'd like, we offer cremation services here, or we could bury him for you."

"David?"

He couldn't quite bring himself to talk right now. 

"Take all the time you need." 

David held on to Scotch's body until it was cold. His best buddy, gone. 

Sure, logically, he'd known Scotch would die someday. Cats didn't live as long as people, even though they absolutely should.

But… he'd never  _ actually _ thought about it before. David knew it was silly, but he felt like he'd just lost his best friend. 

Scotch was already kind of old when they'd gotten him almost eight years ago. He'd turned up on the porch and decided that David was his best friend, and David would always be grateful for that. 

Scotch had gotten him through middle school and almost half of high school, and now he was just _gone._

Finally, David was out of tears to cry. He sat up, still stroking Scotch's ears. 

"David?"

Bryan spoke softly, and David could tell he was a bit teary too. 

"What do you want them to do with…"

He didn't say  _ body _ , or  _ corpse _ , or  _ Scotch _ , but David thought all those words. 

"Can we bury him? At home?" 

"Of course."

David was somewhat aware of them putting Scotch's limp little self in a box all wrapped up in a towel, and then they left. 

As soon as Bryan started the car, David lost it again. 

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay," Bryan soothed, leaving the car in park to rub David's shoulder. 

David nodded. It didn't exactly feel okay right now. He needed… something. He wasn't sure what. 

He needed to talk to Jack. 

David sent a text, hoping his boyfriend was still up.

_ Scotch died.  _

**Jack ♡**

_ Oh shit.  _

_ Davey I'm sorry. _

_ I know how much he meant to you _

_ Want me to come over??? _

_ I'm coming over.  _

David considered falling Jack not to come over in the middle of the night, and in the snow, no less, but Jack was probably going to show up anyway. And he did want to see him. 

Jack somehow always managed to make things a little less… horrible. 

* * *

As soon as they got home, David rushed upstairs. He needed to be alone, to not have Sarah or Spot looking at him like that.

He curled up in his bed, already feeling Scotch's absence. There should be a furry little thing climbing up to snuggle up with him, but there wasn't. It didn't feel right. 

David buried his face in his blanket and let the tears come.

"Davey?" 

Jack. 

Jack lay down on the bed next to him, and David reached for Jack's warm, sturdy body. Jack pulled him close, wrapping his whole self around David like a koala. 

"Jack…" David had nothing to say. What was he supposed to say? Why was he so sad about it? Scotch had been old, he'd had a good life. 

David missed him already, missed him so much. 

David started to cry again, shaking with sobs as he curled into Jack's chest. 

"I know it's s-stupid and h-he was just a c-cat, but-"

"Hey," Jack interrupted his gasping. "He meant a lot to you. It's not stupid to miss him."

David heaved a sigh, cuddling into Jack.

"I thought you hated Scotch."

"I loved how you loved him."

David's heart melted. That was such a Jack thing to say. Simple, yet perfectly sweet. 

"Even if I'm a bit of a jealous bastard. Hey," Jack said suddenly, smiling. 

"Remember that time we thought he was lost? And you dragged me around the neighborhood for like, three hours?"

David smiled. "And then we found him under my bed. I remember."

"And remember that time he brought home that stupid bird? How did he even get outside, let alone catch a whole-ass bird?"

David laughed a bit at that story. "And then Bryan insisted we take care of the bird. That was actually pretty cool."

"Yeah," Jack agreed.

"Davey, he wouldn't want you to be sad." Jack said softly. 

"That nutty old cat loved you. He'd be cuddling up to your face right now, trying to get you to smile." Jack gave a little smile himself. 

"I guess it's my job now, huh?" He squished David closer to him, and it wasn't like David was going to protest, was he?

David rested his head on Jack's arm, snuggling close. 

"He was a good cat," David decided. 

"He was, wasn't he?" Jack agreed. "Even if he hated my guts. He liked you, means he had good taste." 

David twisted to kiss the end of Jack's nose. "You're very sweet, Jack."

"I know. I'm great."

David snorted a laugh. 

He could miss Scotch, that was okay. But he'd be happy, eventually. Things were gonna be okay. 


	9. Welcome to cooking with Nonna, where we hide from the rest of the family and try authentic italian cuisine!(Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So to any of you who have commented on this, I'd literally go to war for you.  
> ♡♡♡♡♡

"Remind me again why I'm here?" Spot asked Racetrack when his boyfriend met him as soon as Bryan pulled up to the Higgins’ driveway. 

"I am not related to you, your mom doesn't even  _ like  _ me, and there's already gonna be way too many people in your house as it is." 

Racetrack grabbed Spot's arm and dragged him from the car impatiently. Bryan, being a  _ traitor, _ just seemed amused by Spot's plight. 

Spot was not going to “ _ have fun” _ , Bryan. He was going to behave like a miserable, nasty grouch and hate every second of this experience. 

He was doing it for Racetrack though. Anything for Racetrack.

"You’re here because you love me, and I cannot stand another day with all of them by myself. I need something resembling a break from this hellscape. Do you have  _ any  _ idea what it's like to have your  _ entire  _ family in the same house? I  _ need  _ you, Spot." Racetrack did seem a bit on edge, Spot had to admit. He really had no idea how Racetrack's entire extended family managed to cram into one average sized house, but it probably involved some kind of dark magic. 

"Besides," Racetrack continued, leading Spot up the driveway. "It's not like it’s some real big event. You're just meeting my family."

"All at once," Spot pointed out. It sounded like Racetrack had been trying to convince himself that it was no big deal, which did not fill Spot with confidence. 

Sure, he was glad to be invited, but… Racetrack had a big family, and so far Spot had not hit off with any of them except his grandma. Mrs. Higgins had quickly decided that he was trouble, which honestly was a pretty accurate description of Spot, but still, she didn’t have to  _ assume _ , and Racetrack’s younger sister had refused to show her face when he was over the last time. 

Spot was not optimistic on meeting the rest of the Higgins clan. 

"Yeah. It's a lot," Racetrack admitted. "But you'll probably like my brother, assuming he bothers to show up, since he’s like, five hours later than he said he’d be. But Dante's cool. Try not to piss anyone off?" 

Racetrack looked so sincere, and honestly kind of nervous, Spot could hardly refuse. 

"I'll do my best to behave."

Racetrack smirked.

"You don't have to behave  _ too  _ much. My aunt and uncle are very very religious, so they’re not fond of me being a small annoying gay. So like…" he trailed off, an impish smile growing on his face. 

"Ah. I see." Spot nodded thoughtfully, doing his best to hide a grin. "I'm here to play a fun game called Passively Harass the Homophobe. I can get behind this plan."

Spot was very good at harassing people, passively and non-passively. 

He was not, however, good at pretending to be happy when bombarded by a loud, entirely too happy group of people crowded into one house. 

“Anthony, is this your lover?” A tall, dark haired guy who looked to be about nineteen shouted, ruffling Racetrack’s hair. 

“Yes, Enzo. And keep your grubby paws to yourself.” Racetrack scowled. 

Spot was already considering just making a break for it. This was going to be hell, he could feel it. 

“Aunt Rosa, Antonio’s back! He’s got his little friend now!” the young man announced, and Spot decided he hated him. 

Spot followed Racetrack into the living room, trying his best not to look as irritated as he felt. This house was  _ entirely  _ too crowded. David would probably just combust if he were here. 

Racetrack, speaking up to be heard over the chatter of his family, pointed out and named everyone in the room. 

Spot decided to pay attention only to Racetrack’s immediate family, since hopefully he’d never have to see all the cousins, aunts, and uncles ever again. 

Gabriella was the kid on the floor next to the baby, whose name was irrelevant, seeing as it wasn’t Racetrack’s sibling. Maria was the one bitching the loudest out of a group of four older girls, Izabella was also someone Spot was pretty sure he was going to hate, along with Matteo, who was currently harassing Racetrack, putting him on Spot’s hitlist. 

He had met Marco once, for about three seconds in the hospital before the guy snuck out, technically breaking the visitation rules. 

If Matteo and whoever the other dude was didn’t get their hands  _ off  _ Spot’s boyfriend, he was going to break his vow of civility sooner than anticipated. Racetrack didn’t look like he appreciated the “good-natured” wrestling one bit. 

“Racetrack,” Spot interrupted the fun game of Torture Racetrack by glaring at the two older boys. 

“Where’s your grandma at?” Spot didn’t  _ hate  _ Mrs. Altiere, at least. 

“Prolly in the kitchen making more food than we can ever eat,” Race said, shoving Matteo off him. 

Spot highly doubted it was possible to make more food than this huge family could eat, but really, he’d go anywhere to escape this noise. 

“Get out! I don’t need any help!” 

Racetrack’s grandma declared, waving her spatula at them without looking up from whatever she was cooking. 

“Not even from me, Nonna?” Racetrack hugged her from the side.

“Oh, Anthony, dolcezzo! Your help is always welcome.” She turned to see Spot standing awkwardly. 

“Oh, Sean! Come, I’ll teach you how to cook shellfish.”

Spot was pretty sure anyone who willingly ate something so slimy and disgusting was probably insane, but the warm kitchen was nice, and he’d never had anyone teach him how to cook anything beyond boxed macaroni before. 

Racetrack was absolutely horrified by this fact, insisting that Spot would never survive if he couldn’t cook. 

“If I eat anything besides, like, plain rice or jello, I puke, Racer. Why would I  _ want  _ to learn how to make anything else?”

“How do you know shellfish will make you sick if you’ve never  _ tried  _ them?”

“I’ve never tried a lot of things, and I never will. For example, cocaine.”

Luckily Mrs. Altiere, who he’d momentarily forgotten was there, had a good sense of humor. Spot decided his first impression had been right, and that he liked the old woman a lot. 

Surprising, since he’d never met an old person he  _ liked  _ before. In Spot’s experience, old people didn’t like him, and he didn’t like them, and that worked out just fine for everyone involved. It was an efficient system of mutual loathing that stemmed mainly from Spot being a disrespectful little prick, and old people not typically appreciating that very much. 

Racetrack’s grandma was cool though, and cooking with her was an educational experience. Spot had no idea there were so many specifics involved in cooking, but Mrs. Altiere was an incredibly patient teacher. Spot didn’t really know how to do even the simplest things, for example, he’d never actually cut up garlic before, and nearly chopped the tip of his finger off and gave Race a heart attack. 

“Nonna, help him before he dies!” Racetrack said dramatically, flinging olive oil all over the place as he flailed his arms. 

“Here, love, let me show you.” 

She used the side of the knife, smushing the smooth, shiny piece of garlic up before she chopped it even smaller.

“Put the tip of the knife down first, that way it doesn’t slip,” she explained, demonstrating slowly and then handing the knife over. 

“You try.”   
Spot did, and while he was significantly slower than Mrs. Altiere, he managed to not kill himself like Racetrack apparently assumed he would. 

“Now, Anthony,” she turned to Racetrack, trusting Spot not to cut his hand off or something.

“Help me dice these tomatoes.”

Spot had to admit, he wasn’t actually hating this as much as he’d expected. He wasn’t hating it at all, actually. The kitchen was warm and cozy with the smell of cooking food, and in spite of the Christmas music that he’d normally complain about, dare Spot say he was even enjoying himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw this thing on tumblr that said something like "imagine what assumptions people make about you based on your fanfics"
> 
> So like, now I'm wondering, if any of u all wanna let me know, what do you assume about me? 
> 
> Am I male? Female? A lizard?
> 
> A small child? 4000 years old? Trapped for eternity in the body of a highschooler??


	10. 2 babies, one slightly larger than the other. (Spot&David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally just fluff. 
> 
> "Meanwhile back at the ranch" is my new favorite saying. 
> 
> Also, I burned my left hand at work today and I have a paper cut under one of my fingernails on the right hand so now I have NO hands that arent painful to use!

Spot was ready to admit, Racetrack was right. Cooking was fun, and he liked it. There was something really satisfying about chopping things up into little tiny pieces with a knife. 

Or maybe that made him a psychopath. Well, psycho or not, Spot was enjoying himself. 

After a little while, Gabriella joined them in the kitchen, carrying the baby awkwardly on her hip. 

Spot thought it was a bit odd that they'd dumped the baby on an only slightly older baby, but it wasn't like it was  _ his  _ baby, so not his problem.

Until Gabby decided to make it his problem by dumping the baby in his arms. 

“This is Arianna," She introduced, immediately turning away and talking to her grandmother. 

And now suddenly Spot was holding a baby. Why the hell did they trust him with a baby? He absolutely should not be holding a baby. What if he dropped it?

The baby, named Arianna, apparently, made weird cooing noises and grabbed at his hair. 

Why was Racetrack looking at him like that?

Was he holding her wrong? Spot had no idea. He didn't  _ do _ babies. 

Arianna reached up, clumsily trying to grab Spot's lips with her chubby hands.

He sat down at the table, trying very hard not to drop this wiggling little creature whose safety had for some reason been entrusted to the most untrustworthy person in the room, possibly the world. 

"Why are they so loud?" Gabriella complained, stealing a carrot from Mrs. Altiere's pile. 

"Gabby,  _ farfallina,  _ they're just having fun."

"Why can't they have fun  _ quietly _ ? You guys are!"

"What's a farfallone?" Spot asked, making Racetrack giggle for some reason.

"A farfall _ ina  _ is a little butterfly," Racetrack's grandma explained with a smile. 

"Farfallone is a womanizer, a playboy. Not our Gabriella, I would hope."

Spot laughed, which made the baby squeal with glee. 

"You don't even know why I'm laughing," he accused, poking her little baby nose. 

Arianna laughed again, drooling all over herself in the process. 

Spot couldn't help but smile, even as he was bitten and drooled on by a toothless little goblin. 

After all, Arianna’s little tooth-nubs weren’t exactly sharp, and drool wasn’t  _ that  _ gross, or at least, not when it came from a baby. 

Of course, the fact that Racetrack and his grandma were looking at him like he was doing something  _ cute _ was a bit of a problem. 

Spot Conlon (soon to be Conlon-Denton, the thought of which made him embarrassingly happy) was many things, but  _ cute _ was not one of them. 

Arianna, however, was very cute, with her little pink footie pajamas, which did in fact have little white bunny rabbits on the toes, which she seemed to really enjoy kicking people in their very sensitive, recently-sliced-open stomachs with. 

Spot had almost no experience with babies, probably because nobody in their right mind would want a problem kid who smoked and got into fights anywhere near their baby, so he'd kind of just assumed he hated them.

Apparently that was an incorrect assumption. This little pink ball of giggles and slobber was impossible to hate, and Spot was very good at hating things. 

He did not, however, have much of anything to hate right now, in a warm kitchen that smelled like seasoning and cooking food, full of every member of Racetrack's family that Spot didn't hate. 

It was all just  _ nice _ .

Unfortunately, the peace and calm of the kitchen couldn't last forever, not in a house crammed with so many people. 

Spot really considered committing murder when Racetrack's brother (Marco? Matteo? Something with an M) burst through the door, announcing, "Dante's here, and you won't  _ believe _ what his newest significant other is like!"

He grabbed Racetrack around the neck with one arm and Gabriella around the shoulders with the other, dragging them out of the safety of the kitchen. 

"Come on, Nonna, Loverboy!"

Spot heaved the baby up so he wouldn't drop her (shouldn't somebody else be doing this? Where were her parents?) and followed behind, feeling more and more like committing a violent crime, but that would be traumatic for baby Arianna, so he'd restrain himself. 

For now.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (which is not a ranch but in fact a normal home).....

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay? We don't have to hang out or anything if you wanna be alone."

David loved his boyfriend, really, he did, but if Jack didn't stop asking if he was okay, David was going to lose his mind. 

"Jack. I am fine. Stop asking if I'm okay. Please."

David was still sad about Scotch, of course he was. They'd buried the cat earlier that day, out in the yard under the bird feeders, and David wasn't ashamed to admit he'd cried again while they did it. 

Jack had come over to help, and stuck around after to fuss over David, who just wanted to watch a movie or something and not think too much. 

"Okay." 

Jack didn't sound convinced, so David decided to distract him. 

"Come on, Jack. You pick the movie."

David correctly assumed they would end up watching Back to the Future 3, as they always did when Jack picked. 

It wasn't even a real western, and yet Jack insisted it was his favorite cowboy movie. Of course his favorite cowboy movie would also be sci-fi, because what else would suit Jack Kelly's tastes?

"So what year is it now? Then? Whatever."

David never knew what was going on in this movie.

"1955," Jack explained. "Then it's 1885, then back to 1985, but that's not till the end."

David smiled at how engrossed Jack was in the movie he must have seen hundreds of times. He always ended up watching his boyfriend more than the movie, unless the movie was Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings got David's complete and undivided attention, no matter what. 

David cuddled close into Jack's side, letting all the sad and upsetting thoughts from the day just fade into the warm, soft blanket heap of a movie night and Jack's steady breathing. 


	11. Race is personally responsible for all gayness in the world (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am having a bad day, so I went for a run and then wrote some sprace to cheer myself up.  
> Sprace is always good.
> 
> Mama Higgins needed some redemption so here she is being a mama bear.

Spot did not like parties, especially ones filled with people he didn't know. 

And things got much more unenjoyable when everyone was making a big fuss over what was basically nothing. 

Dante, Racetrack's oldest brother, did in fact have a new significant other, but Spot saw no reason for everybody to get so worked up about it. 

Sure,  _ Spot  _ probably wouldn't have chosen to come out of the closet by bringing his new boyfriend to a huge family gathering, but if Racetrack's brother felt like doing that, it was his business. 

Racetrack was absolutely ecstatic that his favorite brother also had a boyfriend, and he said so, much to the irritation of what Spot assumed were the homophobic aunt and uncle he'd heard about. 

"Oh, Dante. Are you sure?" The woman, who Spot quickly decided he despised, asked. "You're so young, you have plenty of time to change your mind," her husband pointed out, which frankly was incredibly rude of him to say right in front of the guy and his boyfriend, who was now looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Richard! Gloria!" Mrs. Higgins said, clearly furious. 

"Do not speak to my son and his boyfriend that way. Ever."

Huh. Maybe Spot shouldn't hate her quite so much. 

"Mama, this is Ben," Dante introduced the young man, who looked incredibly uncomfortable, but gave a tiny, very awkward wave. 

"It's lovely to meet you, Ben. I hope our Dante has been treating you well."

She turned to her eldest son sternly, completely ignoring the way her in-laws were scowling at them. 

Spot had to be impressed. Mrs. Higgins was many things, most of which Spot did not like, but she was not  _ that _ much of an asshole, apparently. 

He reached for Racetrack's hand and gave him a little squeeze.

Racetrack smiled, leaning his head on Spot's shoulder. 

“So, Tony. This your new guy?” Dante abandoned Ben to Mrs. Higgins’ chatter to talk with his youngest brother. 

Racetrack nodded, still smiling. 

“This is Spot.” 

Spot felt all warm inside at the pride in Racetrack’s voice. 

“Nice to meet you.” Spot would have offered to shake hands, but Racetrack was kind of occupying his right hand at the moment, and he wasn’t about to let go any time soon. 

“Nice to meet you, too, Spot. Unusual name. There a story behind that?”

“No.” 

How was that any of his business? Spot couldn’t help but get defensive. 

“Okay, sorry.” Dante held his hands up in surrender, and Spot immediately felt bad for snapping. He did not want to explain those kinds of things to the brother Racetrack seemed to have a bit of a hero-worship thing going on with. What if Dante decided he didn't approve? Spot couldn’t imagine Racetrack ignoring his brother’s opinion, even if it was negative. 

Luckily, Dante didn’t seem to be annoyed, and just changed the subject, talking about his college and asking about Racetrack’s life. 

Spot did his best to pay attention and be involved with the conversation, but honestly, this was all getting to be a bit much. He was starting to understand how David felt sometimes. 

Finally, amid all the fuss and chatter, they managed to slip away, down to Racetrack's room in the basement. 

“All the best people are gay,” Racetrack declared with a self-satisfied little grin, as if he were personally responsible for all gayness in the world.

“Well, except, like, my grandma. She’s not gay. Oh, and what’s Denton?”

“I’m pretty sure Bryan exists outside the realm of sexuality,” Spot decided. Racetrack nodded sagely in agreement. 

“I don’t know if I’m anything,” piped up a voice from under the bed, giving both boys a heart attack. 

“Gabby!”

The little girl crawled out from under the bed, looking entirely too much like the demon girl from The Ring. 

"What?" She asked, indignant. "It was too loud up there. Besides," the little girl accused. "You're not supposed to be down here alone, anyway." 

Racetrack sighed, but he was smiling too. 

"Gab-BY! Please? Leave?" 

Gabby sighed dramatically like he'd just told her the love of her life had died tragically yet heroically in battle. Clearly this was an enormous sacrifice. 

"Fine. But you owe me for not telling."

Racetrack ruffled her hair. "Yep. I'll make it up to you, don't worry."

Spot turned to Racetrack once she left. 

"Hey, um. I'm sorry. For snapping at your brother about my name."

Racetrack waved him off. "It's fine. He won't care. But hey," now Racetrack looked at him curiously. 

"Why do people call you Spot? Like, you told the whole burning holes into the wall thing, but your nurse friend said that wasn't it, but he wouldn't tell me why. So what is it?"

Skittery was a fucking  _ traitor _ , and now Spot would have to explain. Well, Racetrack was gonna find out sooner or later anyway. 

Spot breathed deeply. 

He tugged his shirt off, kind of unnecessarily revealing, but whatever. (Teenage boys be like)

"Hey, whoa, Spot!" Racetrack looked absolutely panicked at the sudden partial nudity. 

"Shut up, I'm not trying to fuck you. Just look." 

Spot gestured at the scars speckling his chest. 

"They call me Spot because of these."

Racetrack stared at him, confused. 

"Wait, what? What are they?"

"Cigarette burns," Spot said, trying and failing to keep any sort of quiver out of his voice. He couldn't look at Racetrack. He had no idea what he would see, and Spot would never be able to stand it if Race looked at him with disgust. 

It was too quiet in that little basement room, and Spot regretted everything he had just said. He'd ruined it. Racetrack would never want to be with someone like him, someone so messed up. Spot was a fucked up mistake of a person, and now Race would know he'd made a mistake in being with him.

And then, tugging Spot out of the horrible, shattering, cracking part of his mind, were Racetrack's gentle hands. Tracing the tiny dots with delicate fingertips, the boy pressed his lips softly on each and every little raised scar. 

Spot shivered the tiniest bit at each kiss, and leaned into Racetrack's arms. 

"Oh, God, Spot. I… I'm so sorry."

Spot had no response. He just wrapped his arms tight around the love of his life, determined to never let go. 


	12. This was meant to be for tomorrow but I just could not wait. (Denton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so proud of this chapter.  
> Spot is a cactus grouch.   
> Dad-ton. 
> 
> Also, if anyone ever has any suggestions or requests about this fic, please do not hesitate to let me know! I'm always looking for new ideas and things to write about!

"I see no reason whatsoever for me to attend this function," Sean declared as Bryan tried yet again to show the boy how to correctly tie his tie. 

They were meant to be attending a holiday concert and party at the school, and Sean had been whining about it all day. 

Sarah and David were actually excited when they'd left earlier to get there early for warm up, but  Sean was clearly not excited, and he had no problem being quite vocal about his negative opinions of the entire activity. 

"I was never really in band, the director fucking  _ punched  _ me, and you're forcing me into this torture device for no reason."

It wasn't even a suit, just a dress shirt and a tie, but you would think they'd forced the kid into a straight jacket with the way he was fussing and carrying on about it. 

To be fair, his medication was still in a bit of an experimental phase as far as dosages went, so it was understandable that he would act out for a while, at least until they found the right balance, one that helped with the pain without messing with the poor kid's head. 

"Language," Bryan reminded him anyway. "And it's not that bad, so calm down."

As much as Bryan wished he could fix it, there wasn't any way to take away the chronic pain. Sean did have to learn to cope with his condition, and that included the medication and whatever side effects came with them. 

But he was still just a kid, a tiny, irritable, secretly sweet and loving kid who had been through entirely too much. 

He could act out sometimes. That wasn't such a horrible issue, was it?

Bryan did his best to sound stern when he scolded, but there was a smile tugging at his lips that he couldn't quite hide. Of course, Sean could tell, and the boy was more than willing to take advantage of it. 

"This shirt itches, and I hate it, and I hate you by extension," the boy tugged at the starchy black fabric, pouting in a childish way that warmed Bryan's heart. Sean clearly felt comfortable and safe here, to be acting like such a brat. A lovable brat, of course, but still very much a brat. And it was certainly amusing, even if Bryan would never admit it out loud. 

Bryan tweaked the boy's nose gently, earning an even more intense scowl as Sean swatted his hand away.

"Well, hate me or not, you still have to wear it, and you still have to come. Don't be a grouch about it," Bryan said, knowing full well he would be ignored in that instruction. 

"Here, let me show you again." 

He demonstrated the simplest knot he knew on his own tie, but Sean was still very much struggling. 

"It's just like tying your shoes," Bryan encouraged, trying not to laugh, smile, or in any way shape or form give away just how endearing the entire situation was to him. 

"Except I can  _ see  _ my shoes and I don't wear them around my fuck-ugh, my  _ hecking _ neck," 

Sean groused, once again managing to tie the knot backwards. He snarled irritably, untangling the red fabric from his neck with a scowl. 

"Can you just do it?" 

He held out the tie, looking so pathetic that Bryan couldn't say no. And besides, at this rate, they were going to be late. 

Bryan quickly tied the knot under Sean's collar, ignoring the grumbling and fidgeting from the extremely irritable boy. 

He pulled the tie tight, and Sean made an exaggerated choking, hacking sound, tugging away and pulling the knot a bit looser. 

"I knew it," he grumbled tragically. 

"You're trying to kill me. I should have known. The only possible reason for you to keep me around. Murder." 

"Hey." Bryan frowned. He knew it was a joke, but still. He didn't like hearing Sean talk about himself like that, like he was just some rusted old part to a car, kept around while it was convenient but scrapped when you finally got around to cleaning the garage. 

Bryan put one hand on Sean's shoulder and looked seriously into the boy's frosty blue eyes. 

"Don't be talking about yourself like that. You are here because you are loved, Sean. We love you.  _ I _ love you, more than I can ever tell you."

He squeezed the boy's shoulder gently. 

"Okay?"

Sean shifted uncomfortably, not quite meeting his eyes. 

"Okay. Can we go now?" 

Bryan nodded. 

That had simply needed to be said. It was just too bad being shown love made Sean so uncomfortable. He clearly had no idea what to do with a family sort of love, and the implications of that fact broke Bryan's heart. 

How could anyone hurt this child? This sweet kid, who was currently getting cat hair all over his black clothes. He really shouldn't let Jenny climb into his arms as he sat on the stairs to tug on shoes, but that was definitely not worth arguing about. 

Bryan took in Sean's appearance, making sure he was at least sort of presentable. Normally it wouldn't matter, but Jonathan would be at the concert, and it wouldn't look good for the adoption if Sean decided to show up looking like he was some kind of hobo. 

The boy was a bit rumpled, but he had his shirt buttoned and more or less tucked in. The tie was looser than it should be, but still on.

He badly needed a haircut, but that could wait. 

For now, it would have to be good enough. 

Sean tugged on his old red jacket, and Bryan realized guiltily that it was entirely too thin and threadbare for the winter cold. How had he not noticed before? They absolutely had to get Sean a new coat, as soon as possible. 

_ Tomorrow _ , Bryan decided, herding Sean and Les out the door. They'd go to the store tomorrow. 

"Bryan?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

Sean's voice was so quiet and his words so rushed, Bryan almost missed them. 

"I _..Iloveyoutoo _ ." 

Sean bolted out to the car before Bryan could respond.


	13. "Wowzers"- Jack Kelly (David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so....  
> I have a thing that I want to happen soon. But. It is actually like, an action/drama thing. So like, here is a warning, soon things will be less fluff, more angst.  
> Because I am a mean, bad person who bullies my fictional kiddos. 
> 
> Fun fact, my band director tried to make us tuba girls wear dresses, and me and my friend were like "do u want us to flash the audience because it really seems like that's what u want"  
> And then we wore pants because we do what we want. 
> 
> And now I gotta go draw a picture of sarah in a suit with her tuba because that is my new aesthetic.

David fiddled with his clarinet once again, making absolutely certain everything was in order.

They were about to perform, and while he knew, realistically, nobody would really notice if any of the clarinet players made a mistake, seeing as nobody paid attention to clarinet players in general,(stupid) David still felt the pressure of being first chair. 

He had to be a good example, and messing up the very first song because he'd chipped his reed without noticing was not being a good example. 

David was fretting, like usual, but Sarah, on the other hand, looked fairly relaxed, in spite of the fact that for some reason, the director had decided to have them play a piece with a tuba solo, which had been given to Sarah. 

She fiddled with the buttons on her suit a bit, but other than that, she appeared totally unaffected by what David considered a hugely stressful situation.

Sarah never seemed particularly anxious about performing, even for marching band, when she literally was put on a platform and had everyone staring at her. 

David couldn't comprehend that level of self confidence, the kind that only Jack and Sarah seemed to possess. Jack wasn't even really  _ confident _ , he just liked attention. 

Finally, they were allowed to go onstage. David was ready to stop waiting and start _ playing.  _ The waiting was the most stressful part, in his opinion. 

The auditorium was filled with a soft murmur until Mr. Warkine stepped out, dressed sharply in his conductor outfit, and then a hush fell. David loved that moment most of all. 

The silence right up until, slowly, slowly, the first piece, Carol of the Bells, began.

David liked that piece; it started out soft,  _ then  _ got loud, not a sudden crash that made him jump. 

He liked White Christmas a lot too, which was the next song they played. 

Really, David just liked concert music. It was so much more fun than marching band. Marching band put too much focus on the coordination stuff that he could never quite get down, and concert band was just about the music. 

David played his clarinet, and let everything else go. All that existed was him, his instrument, and Mr. Warkine's baton directing the music. 

All too soon, they were done, and the symphonic band shifted off the stage to let the orchestra on. 

Everyone in band loved the holiday concert. It was a time for every single band to perform, from orchestra to jazz to percussion. Even the guitar classes had a slot to perform. 

It did take a little while, but David enjoyed every second of the other performances once they settled into their seats. He leaned on Jack, trying not to doze off in the dim auditorium as the guitar class played "Oh Holy Night."

You didn't have to be Christian to appreciate a pretty song. 

Once all the bands performed, and the teachers gave their little speeches, the lights went back on so everyone could head to the party section of the evening. 

David held Jack's hand, focusing only on that as they made their way through the noisy crowd. 

If he only thought of Jack's warm hands, he could pretend to be in a much quieter, calmer place. 

They found Mush, who always attended any event his friends were in, hanging around the food.

"Hey Sarah," he chirped. "Your suit looks real nice." 

Sarah had been ecstatic to be permitted to wear a suit for the concert this year. Mr. Weisel had always insisted every single female wear a skirt or dress, which was frankly irrational. Playing the tuba in a skirt could very quickly become problematic if the skirt wasn't just the right length.

Besides, Sarah looked better in a suit than ninety percent of the tuba guys, simply because hers  _ fit _ correctly. 

Mush proceeded to rumple said suit by hugging Sarah like a koala bear, and she of course returned his hug.

Bryan made his way over, half carrying a very sleepy Les. 

"I'm going to take him home. Make sure you get yourselves home at a reasonable hour," he instructed. 

"And don't forget Sean."

David almost laughed at that. Spot was not exactly the kind of person you just forgot somewhere. Though now that he thought about it, where  _ was  _ Spot? 

"Let's grab some food and go someplace quieter," Blink suggested once Bryan left, and it wasn't like David or anyone else was gonna argue with that. 

The group slipped into the hallway between the band room and gym, where there was a little alcove they always claimed. 

The door, normally locked, was open just a crack, meaning Racetrack must be there already to have picked the lock. 

Racetrack  _ absolutely  _ was there, and Spot too. They were both there. And also very distracted, apparently. 

"Jesus, get a room!" Blink yelped, covering his eye. 

The two boys pulled apart immediately, both looking slightly embarrassed, but Spot mostly lookes just Spot-like, aka irritated. 

"Wowzers," Jack commented as Racetrack scrambled to his feet. 

"Wowzers," Spot mocked from his place on the floor.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

"No, I'm fucking David, you're fucking Stupid."

He pointed at Racetrack with a devilish grin. 

"Jack!" Davis squawked as Racetrack slapped his boyfriend in the stomach. 

He and Jack hadn't gotten to that point in their relationship, and Spot and Race… well, David hoped they hadn't either. 

They were just kissing. That was… fine.

David would prefer not walking in on it though. 

But if they hadn't walked in… David shuddered. No way. Spot and Race would never. 

They'd better  _ not  _ be. 

David banished the thought from his mind. He did not need to go full on overprotective brother on Mr. Angry Rattlesnake Spot right now; he'd literally kill him. 

Besides, things were nice right now. No point in poking at SnakeBoy Spot with a nosiness stick until you got bitten unless absolutely necessary. 

David sat next to Jack and watched in amusement as Sarah forced Spot to eat, completely ignoring his insistence that he "wasn't fucking hungry" and Sarah was going to "make him rupture another part of his stupid intestine and how would she feel then?"

David smiled. Spot had settled into their friend group nicely, and David wouldn't trade any of this for the world. 


	14. Sarah Jacobs, reverse bully. (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is well, at least until it isn't. 
> 
> Im apologizing in advance for the next few chapters. I'm gonna be mean to our boy. 
> 
> I'm very sorry.

Spot trailed behind Bryan and Les as they walked into the school building. It was snowing, and the ice in the parking lot made crossing to the door hazardous. Spot was  _ not  _ about to slip and fall on his ass, not today, even if it took him six hours to cross the parking lot. 

Actually, if he took an eternity getting  _ in  _ the building, then he wouldn't have to actually go to the whole concert thing…

"Sean, come on." Bryan sounded uncharacteristically impatient. Maybe he just really liked boring classical music, like Skittery did.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Spot grumbled, doing his best to hurry up. He slid on a particularly treacherous patch of ice, flailing to keep from ending up on the ground. Luckily, Bryan was there as an arm rail, and apparently had better balance than Spot did. 

The man laughed, a nice, warm sound, one that didn't make Spot feel like he was being mocked even a little. 

"Don't hurt yourself there, kiddo," he teased, steadying Spot with one hand while attempting to wrangle Les with the other. 

Kind of embarrassing to  _ need  _ the extra balance, but not nearly as embarrassing as falling flat on his back would have been. 

When they finally made it through the door, Spot stopped short. Now he knew why Bryan had been so impatient to get inside. 

Jonathan was there. Why was he here? Was this some kind of check in? Why hadn't Bryan warned him? Spot felt the all too familiar panicky feeling rise in his chest, and he struggled to control his breathing. 

"Hey." Bryan placed a comforting hand on Spot's shoulder. 

"I didn't want to worry you. He just wants to see how things are going. Nothing's wrong, I promise."

Spot nodded, forcing himself to move stiffly towards Jonathan. He  _ hated  _ Jonathan, and everything the man represented. Jonathan stood as a memory of everything horrible that had ever happened to Spot, and he was  _ here _ , smiling at Spot like they were  _ friends.  _

"Hello, Sean." Jonathan sounded weirdly relaxed, almost like a human being. Not at all like the stiff, irritating Jonathan Spot was familiar with.

"Hey," Spot said simply, willing himself to calm the fuck down. It was just Jonathan. Nothing to be afraid of. 

"Hello, Jonathan," Bryan said, sounding much more sure of himself than Spot could ever imagine feeling. 

"You need a haircut," Jonathan commented. 

"Pretty sure I don't."

Spot liked his hair just the way it was, thank you  _ very  _ much, and he didn't like having a stranger touching it. 

"Would you like to sit with us? I think the performances are going to start soon," Bryan, who was either a traitor or absolutely insane, invited Jonathan to spend more time with them. 

Luckily, Jonathan shook his head. 

"I'm here with my fiance. I should be getting back to him."

_ "Him? _ "

How had Spot never known this little detail before? 

Racetrack said all the  _ best _ people were gay, but apparently one of the worst was too. 

Jonathan smiled, a real, genuine one that Spot didn't  _ hate.  _

"Yes, Sean. Him. His name is Lucas. Would you like to meet him?"

"No, thanks. I need to just deal with this sudden revelation flipping my entire fucking world on its head," Spot declared. 

"Sean!" 

Bryan pointed to Les, who wasn't paying any attention anyway so it made absolutely no difference what Spot said. 

"Sorry," Spot lied. He wasn't sorry, he was utterly surprised. Jonathan, fucking  _ Jonathan _ had a boyfriend. No, a  _ fiance.  _ A male fiance. They'd be getting married. Someone could actually  _ stand  _ Jonathan, permanently. 

Amazing. 

This did explain Jonathan's fury at that family who hated Spot for being gay, he realized. Unsurprisingly, like any reasonable, not complete garbage human being, your average gay man wasn't particularly fond of abusive homophobes. 

After what Spot considered entirely too long of exchanging pleasantries if this Lucas character was waiting as Jonathan said, they did eventually make it into the auditorium to sit down just before the lights dimmed. 

Spot found himself actually really invested in the music, not that he'd ever admit it out loud. The jazz band, featuring the one and only Racetrack on saxophone, was his personal favorite, and not just because Racer in a suit was such a beautiful thing. (Though that certainly was a bonus.)

By the time Sarah and David's band started playing, Les was practically asleep on Bryan's shoulder. Spot could hardly blame the kid. The music was mesmerizing, and if Spot wasn't already in the habit of staying up unreasonably late, it might have put him to sleep too. 

What he really wanted right now was to see Racetrack, but the performers had to all sit together near the stage. 

Finally, the last musicians left the stage, teachers gave speeches nobody cared about, and then they were allowed to leave.

Spot hopped to his feet and set off in the direction of the jazz kids. 

He only recognized a handful, and really, only one of them mattered. Racetrack. 

Spot slid up behind the other boy, who fortunately had already put his saxophone away, or he probably would have dropped it when Spot poked him in the ribs.

Instead he just squawked and jumped about a foot into the air, turning to Spot with a look of utter betrayal.

"Owwww," he whined. "Why must you bully me in this way?"

"Just admit it. You love when I harass you."

Race made an indignant little sound that definitely wasn't a word and grabbed for Spot's hand. 

"You're mean, and I hate you," he declared, dragging Spot towards the band room. 

"Let's sit down and wait for everybody else."

"You're not acting like you hate me very much," Spot teased as Racetrack fiddled with the handle on the locked door. 

"Trust me, you're the worst and I despise you. Now come here." Racetrack sank to the floor and pulled Spot into a kiss. Spot wasn't about to protest the hypocrisy of it all. 

* * *

After an extremely awkward interruption because the two had gotten a bit distracted, Spot and Racetrack were joined by a small herd of noisy morons sometimes known as their friends. 

Blink declared himself traumatized, and Sarah, of course, had brought Spot food that he wasn't hungry for. 

"Hey," Sarah sat down, loosening her tie. 

"Eat." She shoved a paper plate of food Spot did not feel like consuming into his hands. 

"I'm not fucking hungry, Sarah."

"Eat it," she insisted, pushing the food at him again. 

"No, Racetrack, save me from this bully." Spot leaned into Racetrack's side and away from mom-friend Sarah. 

"Don't bullies usually  _ take _ your food, not give it to you?" Racetrack teased, the treacherous snake, not defending his boyfriend against Sarah's obvious attempts to poison him. 

"Reverse bully. Still a monster harassing the poor sickly boy Spot." Spot was not at all opposed to using any and everything about himself to his advantage in an argument. 

Sarah had roped  _ Crutchie _ onto her side too. Now there were three people in Spot's life who constantly insisted he eat. How irritating. 

"Eat, Spot," Crutchie ordered, throwing a potato chip at his head. It stuck in his hair, which absolutely did  _ not  _ need to be cut. 

"Fine, if it'll shut you two up," Spot grumbled, giving in and nibbling on a cookie. 

Things were pretty good, if he was being totally honest. He had food, his stomach didn't really hurt, and most importantly, there were people who actually cared enough to harass him. 

Things had never been better than this. 

But that wasn't going to stop Spot from bitching about it, of course. 

That would just be going too far. 

* * *

Spot waved to Racetrack as the boy climbed into his mother's car. She'd been late picking him up, so Spot, David, Jack and Sarah had stuck around with him until just about everyone in the whole building left, so by now there were only a few scattered cars in the parking lot. 

("It's fine, happens all the time." "We are not leaving you here to get abducted, Racetrack.")

It was quiet, light snowfall making everything muffled as the trio (Jack and David were so close they counted as one person) picked their way around the building to where David had parked. 

A shout across the parking lot broke the peaceful quiet. 

"Patrick!" 

They all turned towards the sound instinctively. 

And there, running towards them from a car parked right outside the school, was someone Spot never thought he'd ever have to see again. 

"Mama?"


	15. I'm sorry in advance (David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So in case this is a bit confusing, she calls Spot Patrick because of the headcanon that Patrick's Mother from Carrying the Banner is actually Spot's mother.
> 
> It's his middle name, because I said so.
> 
> I know I'm doing either very good or very bad at writing when the comments are essentially just variations on "holy shit."
> 
> Nice to know people are reading still (:  
> I love you all, please forgive me♡♡♡

"Spot? Who is that?" David asked, concerned. 

They had waited around the school longer than usual, waiting for Mrs. Higgins to remember that she did in fact have a son who was at band. Not that David was complaining, of course. It meant more time with Jack, who had insisted on carpooling. 

But now, waiting around meant they were fairly alone in a dark parking lot and a woman David didn't know trying to wave them over from a beat up little car. 

Spot looked like he might be sick. He turned to David, panic like he had never seen before filling the boy's eyes. 

"David, don't let her take me!" The boy begged, slipping and sliding on the icy sidewalk as he scrambled to get back inside the school. 

David, Jack, and Sarah followed, ignoring the woman yelling for them to wait. 

"Spot!" Sarah called into the shadowy hall, worry filling her voice. "Where did he go?"

David turned abruptly at the slam of the door behind them. 

"Patrick! Darling, where are you?" 

Who the hell was this lady, and why was she after Spot? He'd called her Mama, was she really his mother? 

"Hey, uh, miss?" Jack offered cautiously, not moving towards her. 

"Oh, hello there!" The woman smiled, and David couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Something about her felt… not right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

And of course, the way Spot had reacted made it pretty clear that she wasn't safe. 

"I'm here to pick up my son. I'm his mother." She still smiled widely, looking not entirely unlike a piranha. 

"You're not really supposed to be in the school building, only students and staff are allowed," David lied, praying she wouldn't see through him. Close up, this lady looked absolutely nuts, and he did not trust her one bit; he certainly wouldn't trust her around his brother. 

She smelled like the backseat of Jack's car, meaning either she was drunk, or forgetting a can of grape juice under the seat all summer until it fermented was a more common mistake than David had thought. 

"How about you wait in your car, we'll send him out when we find him?" Jack offered. David absolutely loved his boyfriend, even if he sometimes accidentally turned his car into a brewery. 

The lady smiled even wider. "Oh, thank you! Just let him know I'm here, alright? I'm his mother," she repeated. 

"We will," Sarah promised, holding the door open for the woman to leave. 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem suspicious of their intentions at all, probably due to the fact that she was so drunk it was a miracle she made it back to her dumptruck of a car without slipping. 

David looked at Jack and Sarah, who both looked the same way he felt; really freaked out. 

“We’re not going to send him out to her once we find him, I assume?” Jack was visibly nervous, which didn’t usually happen. 

“No way. Whether she’s his mom or not, that lady looks nuts,” Sarah declared. 

“Come on, let’s find Spot.”

* * *

They found him in the band room, curled up between a tuba case and the wall, shaking like a leaf. 

Spot’s eyes were wide and terrified, and he looked at David like he didn’t even recognize him. "No, no, no," he whispered. "Go away, please go away."

"Hey," David soothed, trying to hide the fact that he had no idea what to do. 

"It's us, Spot. It's David, Sarah, Jack. Come on out."

Spot blinked, shaking his head like he'd just woken up. 

"David…" His voice quivered, small and afraid like a baby animal.

"Yeah, it's us." Sarah gently put one hand on Spot's leg, and he shifted to wiggle out of his hiding spot. 

"Is she gone?" 

David shook his head. 

"She said she was going to wait in her car."

Spot, strangely, chose Jack as the one to lean on right then. 

"Who is she?" David tried to keep his voice soft; Spot was pretty obviously freaked. 

"My mom," Spot whimpered. "David, I don't know how she found me. She's not supposed to know where I am, David. David I-I I don't know!"

He looked close to tears, and David did not know how to handle that at all. 

"It's okay, Spot. We'll just…" He had no idea what they should do. 

"Let's go home," Sarah suggested. "Bryan will know what to do, and I guarantee I can lose her if she tries to follow." That was true. Sarah seemed to get all of her driving tips from NASCAR instructors. 

"How do we get to the car?" Jack pointed out. 

Shoot. How would they do that? If they went out this exit, she'd see them, even in the darkish parking lot. Stupid electric lights. Screw Thomas Edison. 

"I'll call Bryan, he can pick us up at a different door," David decided, pulling out his phone. 

* * *

Bryan pulled up to the side entrance in the minivan, idling as close to the door as possible. 

They all piled in, Spot in the front seat next to Bryan, Sarah and Jack in the back with the sleeping Les who had been loaded into the vehicle still in his pajamas. 

Nobody spoke for the first few minutes, still waiting to see if Spot's mother would follow. Thankfully, she didn't. 

David looked over at Spot, curled up in the seat with his knees to his chest. He was shaking. 

This was completely uncharted waters. 

David's family had taken in a few other foster kids who hadn't been permanent, mostly babies and little kids who needed a temporary place, just until their parents or other permanent places were ready. None had ever had parents who just  _ showed up _ , completely unannounced, even when they were allowed to see the kids. 

And Spot… he was terrified of her. David had never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so panicked. He looked like he might shatter. 

Of course this had to happen now, right when things were going so well. 

Bryan was the first to break the silence. "Sean. It's okay. I promise. You are safe."

"Don't give me back, Bryan. Please." Spot's voice trembled, and David could almost feel his heart break. Surely he didn't think they would just… give him to her?

"Oh, Sean…" Bryan sighed, pulling into the driveway. 

"David, Sarah, Jack, can you get Les inside?"

David nodded, gently shaking his littlest brother awake. 

They went inside, Jack half carrying Les to his bed, and the older three sat on the couch silently. What were they supposed to say?

Jack was the first one to finally speak. 

"Jesus fuck." 

That about summed it up. 

"Did you guys know she was, like, in town?" He asked. 

Sarah shook her head. "Maybe Bryan did? We never learned much of anything about Spot's birth family, right, David?"

David nodded. "Only what he told us." 

And that hadn't been much. Spot was extremely private about his past, and it wouldn't be right to pry. 

David just knew that, if that woman was Spot's mother, she had hurt him, in all the possible ways. Left marks forever in his little brother's flesh, and marks forever in his mind and memory. David would never forgive her for that, no matter what reason or excuse she brought. 

She was a monster, plain and simple. Good people don't burn their own children. She would never get Spot back, not if David had anything to say about it. Never. 


	16. Wrote this at 3 AM so if it doesnt make sense, sorry. (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be soooooo tired tomorrow.

Spot stared blankly out the front window of the minivan, watching with an intensely focused amount of forced disinterest as the snowflakes piled up on the windshield. He'd spent the entire ride home focusing on calming down his racing heart, and now he wasn't entirely sure it was still beating at all. 

The light snowfall had gotten heavier, and now a blanket was forming, making it harder and harder for Spot to see outside with anything resembling clarity.

After everybody else went inside, he and Bryan had just sat in the car for a few minutes, completely silent, when the man finally spoke. 

"Sean." 

His voice was soft, so soft. Like Spot might shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too sharply kind of soft. 

Spot still couldn't manage to respond. 

"What happened, kiddo?" 

Spot shifted in his seat. "Can we just go inside? Please? I promise I'll talk, just not out here."

_ Not outside, not where it isn't safe.  _

Spot would look like a total coward if he up and admitted he still thought  _ she  _ might be following them. 

Bryan nodded and led the way into the house. Spot shivered when he got out of the car, but at least this time he could tell himself it was just from the cold.

He found he could relax just a tiny bit when they got inside. It was warm, and it was safe, and he was  _ home.  _ Home where he could hear the click of the door as Bryan made sure to lock it like he always did. Home where there was a warm hand on his shoulder to remind Spot that he wasn't alone, that it was okay now. 

Spot turned to Bryan, not sure what to say. Bryan looked worried, sad, confused, just in general a mess of emotions. The guy was like an open book; he never tried to hide anything from anyone. 

Spot liked that about Bryan. It made things far less confusing and unpredictable, always knowing exactly how the man felt. 

Spot also liked the fact that Bryan always knew exactly what he needed, which at this particular moment happened to be a hug. 

He leaned into the comforting arms, breathing in Bryan's warm familiar smell and the feeling of complete security that Spot had never felt from anyone before.

He shuddered with every breath, trying with everything he had to calm down. To be okay. 

Bryan had him. Bryan knew what to do, he always did. Things would be okay. They had to be. 

Spot almost believed himself. 

"Ready to tell me?" 

Spot nodded, untangling himself from Bryan's arms. 

"She just showed up," he explained. "I don't know how she found me. She's not supposed to know where I am. What if…" Spot couldn't stand to think about it. 

What if she went to Jonathan? What if she got custody back? Spot was so close to having a real family, of course his parents had to show up and ruin it. Or at least, his mom did. 

"I don't know if it's just her, or if she's still with my dad." 

As far as Spot remembered, Dad had always done less drugs, so if they weren't together anymore, she was probably worse about that. But the man still sucked, even if he preferred to just get drunk on alcohol. 

"Alright. I'm going to call Jonathan, see if he knows anything, okay?"

Bryan gently touched Spot's cheek with one knuckle, an affectionate little gesture that from anyone else would have felt like an attempt at intimidation. 

Spot wandered to his room to change into clothes that weren't absolutely awful torture devices, meaning out of the dress clothes and into sleep clothes, aka, a t-shirt several sizes too big and sweatpants (those needed to be the right size). He pulled on a pair of socks, some of the nice warm ones that Bryan had bought for him when he mentioned (bitched about) band being cold near the end of the season. 

That man  _ cared _ , like, a stupid amount. Not that Spot was complaining, of course. He liked having someone care, especially if that meant he didn't have cold feet all the time. 

Not wanting to be alone, Spot slipped quietly down the stairs and into the living room, where David, Sarah, and Jack sat on the couch, and in Sarah's case, the floor. 

Spot sat next to Sarah, not quite touching her but close enough that he could feel her warmth. 

Nobody said anything. They just sat. 

While Spot appreciated them not grilling him for information, it was also weird. Could they not just say something? 

Finally, he couldn't stand it. Spot turned to Sarah, who was fidgeting with the drawstring on her pajamas that she'd apparently changed into. 

"You were really good on your solo."

She looked up in surprise, as if he'd just announced he was not only straight but also madly in love with her. 

"Thanks," she finally managed to get out. "Hey, Jack, you did pretty good on your improv," she pointed out, thankfully keeping the conversation going. 

"Improv is great because it means I don't have to actually  _ learn  _ things. I just be up there vibing," Jack said with a cheeky grin. 

Spot laughed. It sounded forced, even to him, but at least they weren't just sitting there silently anymore. 

"I miss Scotch," David said suddenly. 

That had come out of nowhere, but Spot wasn't going to argue with any conversation not about him or his past. 

Amidst the other three chatting and exchanging memories of band and cats and anything in between, Spot did his best not to think too much. 

Bryan came back in eventually, and sat on the couch right above Spot. 

He leaned between the man's legs, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by that kind of safety. 

Bryan ran one hand through his hair, and strangely Spot didn't really mind it. 

He had no idea what would happen tomorrow or any day after that, but one thing Spot could trust for absolutely certain was that right now, things were okay. 


	17. ERROR 404, chapter title not found. (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of abuse

Spot should have known Bryan would be mad at him. It was always Spot's fault.  _ Always.  _

Bryan just took longer than most people to figure that out. 

He’d come downstairs, like normal, and Bryan was on the phone, probably with Jonathan. 

He turned to Spot, an unrecognizable frown painted across his normally kind and calm features. 

Bryan was gripping something in his hands. The man had a belt. Spot pulled away, panicked. Not Bryan. Not him too. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. Bryan was supposed to be safe, always. He wasn’t supposed to hurt Spot. 

Spot couldn't get away from the man, no matter how much he tried. It was like he was stuck wading through water, slow and stumbling and gasping as he drowned in nothing. Spot had never liked water. 

Bryan grabbed him by the arm, holding him tight and angry. 

Scotch sat on the kitchen table, and the stupid cat purred as Spot screamed, begging Bryan to stop, but nothing mattered. He couldn’t escape, he was trapped. 

Spot was always trapped. Things weren’t okay, not for him, and they never would be. 

He couldn’t be okay, there was no such thing as “okay” for people like Spot. 

He struggled anyway, however hopeless. What else was Spot supposed to do but fight? 

And then someone was shaking him, and he was in bed. In bed and Bryan was there. Just Bryan, just there, no belt, no anger written across his face. 

Just worried eyes and gentle hands cupping Spot's face as he struggled to breathe normally. 

He couldn't help but pull away, just in case. Just in case that dream had some truth to it. It had to have been a dream, because Scotch was dead. 

"Sean, it's me. It's Bryan." 

Spot nodded. He knew that. He knew who Bryan was. 

But just being Bryan didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't decide to beat the scrawny little troublemaker he'd foolishly let stay with his nice little family. 

He'd never hit him before. That counted for something. 

Bryan sat back on the bed, giving Spot some space, for which he was immensely grateful. 

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah. Sorry I woke you up."

He rolled over, trying to ease the cramping in his stomach. The instinct not to expose his back to anyone was strong, but the stabbing pain was worse. And this way he didn't have to puzzle over the look in Bryan's eyes. 

_ Besides _ , he insisted to himself.  _ Bryan won't hurt you. Not really.  _

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry. If you need me, I will always be here, okay?"

Spot turned and looked at Bryan's face, open and honest, and not a single trace of anger anywhere. 

Spot realized that he believed the man. Bryan would be there if he needed him. He didn't leave through all the scary hospital stuff, and he wasn't leaving now. 

"Want to talk about it?" Bryan offered. Spot bit his lip. 

_ I dreamt you were mad at me, you hit me, you wouldn't stop _ … 

No. It would almost certainly hurt Bryan's feelings if he told the truth, and Spot wouldn't do that. 

He settled for a half-truth. 

"They took me back. I was stuck and they had me," he whispered, hugging his pillow. Because really, going back to  _ that _ was his biggest fear right now. Going back to being hurt, to being scared, to being small and hungry and always so goddamn alone. 

It didn't matter how much Spot told himself he was bigger now, that he could handle anything they'd ever done. As stupid as it felt, deep down, part of him was still that tiny kid, and that was still his Mama and Daddy hurting him again and again. 

Spot would never be able to survive that, no matter how big he got. 

Jonathan hadn't even known his parents were in town, and he was furious that Mama had shown up unannounced, so it wasn't likely for her to get custody the way she was supposed to. But it was still possible for her to just take him away without permission. 

"I'm so sorry, Sean." Bryan was still speaking softly, like Spot couldn't handle anything else, which honestly, he wasn't sure if he could. 

"I'm sorry f or anything they ever did to hurt you. None of it was your fault, ever."

"It's not just what  _ they  _ did, it's like-" Spot couldn't quite figure out how to say it. How could he explain how everything that had ever happened for over ten years had completely sucked, and it was all his parents fault? 

How was he supposed to explain why, in his nightmares, it would be Mama throwing him down the stairs, or Daddy punching him until he fell? And now Bryan joined them. It made no difference if they had ever or  _ would  _ ever actually done those things. 

And what Spot's parents had done was absolutely enough. 

Burns and bruises and never, ever having someone there. What kind of parent, what kind of  _ person _ left a four year old alone for days at a time?

Spot squirmed upright into a sitting position and leaned into Bryan. He needed someone to be there. Needed the warmth, the certainty, the feeling of just being held, so things wouldn't fall apart so completely. 

And Bryan wouldn't hurt him. He never had, and never would. That was one thing Spot  _ knew  _ he could trust with everything he had. 

"Hey, kiddo. Look at me." Spot pulled his face out from where he'd buried it in Bryan's chest.

"You are safe. I promise," he repeated.

"I will not let anyone take you away from me."

That was enough for Spot. He couldn't keep it together anymore. 

He was shaking all over and Bryan was pulling him closer and Spot was crying and he couldn't stop. His mother couldn't take him away. She  _ couldn't. _

Spot cried into Bryan's shirt, and the man didn't leave, even though Spot was sure most people would. Who wanted to sit around comforting a fourteen year old who woke up crying like a little kid after a fucking nightmare? It was stupid and pathetic, but still Bryan stayed. 

He rocked Spot side to side like a baby, singing softly. Spot gasped in a shaky breath, allowing the vibrations in Bryan's chest to calm his racing heart. He focused on the sound of his voice, smooth and gentle. 

Spot realized painfully that Bryan was the only person who'd ever done that with him; his parents never had, at least not that he remembered, and certainly none of the foster parents had bothered. Even Skittery wasn't like that, though he'd always been kind. He was never the kind of person to sing anybody to sleep. 

It was so childish and stupid, and Spot hated that it mattered so much.

But he could breathe easier now, and like it or not, he needed Bryan. Spot really did not like needing anybody. If you needed someone, that made you weak.

Spot could never afford to be weak. 

But maybe now, with people who were always there, he could be. He could need them. He knew they'd come if it mattered. 

Now Spot had family, and that might make all the difference. 


	18. If you dont pet the towels at the store are you really even living?(David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess what song I didn't actually name in this chapter.  
> Call me unoriginal, but I Love that song. 
> 
> Half angst, half fluff.

David lay on his back, wishing Scotch was there. The old cat had always been a comfort, and David could certainly use that right about now. 

He blinked away the tears that threatened to escape. 

It was stupid of him to cry over that, especially now. Right now they had real problems to worry about. Spot's mother showing up was completely unexpected, and it was obviously affecting the younger boy much more than he pretended. He had acted normal when they got home from the school, but even Jack, who didn't live with him, could tell he was upset. 

Take right now, for example. David's room was right next to Spot's, and it had taken the boy ages of tossing and turning to finally fall asleep, only to wake up a few hours later with terror-filled screams that brought Bryan running up the stairs.

If not for the fact that Spot would probably prefer to have Bryan's company than his, David would have gone in himself. He couldn't bear the sound of his brother so clearly in distress, but Spot would probably be embarrassed, or just in general pissed off if David went in there, so he stayed in his room. 

He wasn't sure which had woken him up; Spot's cries, or Bryan rushing from his room downstairs to comfort him. 

He couldn't quite hear the boy's words, he spoke in such a tiny voice, but David could hear Bryan's responses and piece together the rest of the conversation. 

Spot had a nightmare, and he was afraid of being taken away. 

That alone was enough to break David's heart into about a million pieces, and now he could hear him crying, a sound that made David feel like he was being stabbed in the gut. 

How  _ dare _ they make Spot feel that scared? 

He didn't deserve that. No one did. 

David was genuinely amazed that Les and Sarah had managed to sleep through it all. Well, maybe not Les; he slept like a rock, but he was surprised Sarah hadn't woken up, even now as Bryan did his best to soothe the panicked and hurting boy in the next room over. 

David could hear just about everything from that room, which could be annoying if the occupant happened to be noisy, but Spot was usually pretty quiet. 

Right now the only thing David could hear was Bryan's gentle voice reassuring Spot that it was okay. 

He was singing, just bits and pieces of a song that David recognized as an old favorite. 

Bryan had always been a fan of The Beatles, and of course, a song about a bird would be Bryan's favorite. 

It was the one he sang distractedly while working, the lullaby for every child who had ever slept in their home, and included in the playlist for every road trip. 

Bryan didn't have the voice of Paul McCartney, but as far as David was concerned, his version of the song was far superior anyway.

David turned over to go back to sleep. There wasn't much he could do to help, and no doubt things would be fine when he woke up. 

* * *

As expected, things did look better in the daylight, though still unarguably concerning. 

David joined in on the trip to buy Spot a coat, mainly out of boredom, but there was definitely a big, squishy and soft part of him that wanted to be absolutely sure his brother was safe. 

"You act like you've never been inside a Target before," David teased as they made their way to the menswear section. It was true. Spot was jumpy and irritable, which was to be expected, all things considered, yet he still seemed fascinated with just about everything. 

"Maybe I haven't," Spot replied, petting at a towel as they walked past.

"What?"

How had Spot never been to Target before? David thought everyone had been to Target, or another similar department store. They were all basically the same. 

"Oh my  _ god  _ David," Spot groaned in exasperation. "It's a joke. There's a lot of shit I've never done, but being forced to endure clothes shopping is not one of them."

He scowled, and David was given the distinct impression of a bird who had flown into a window and was very displeased about it. 

"I did stay with one or two families who didn't hate me, you know."

David rolled his eyes, but he did feel kind of bad about it. With Spot, everything tended to be either ridiculously dramatic, or entirely too played down. 

This included clothes shopping apparently, which Spot decided he hated more than anything else, including but not limited to salsa, the "fucking bitch" ("Language, Sean!" "Sorry. Anyways-") girl Skittery dated ten years ago, and the concept of a prostate exam. 

"Come on, Sean," Bryan coaxed. "Try it on. We have to make sure it fits."

Spot grumbled, but did as he was asked, wiggling into the coat that absolutely dwarfed him. 

It seemed like just about everything was too big on Spot. David suspected they might have better luck if they tried the children's section, but he didn't feel like getting murdered today, so he didn't say anything. 

Finally they found a coat that sort of fit("room to grow", as Bryan said, sounding very grandma-like). 

Spot had protested entirely too much, insisting it was too expensive and that "he wasn't worth that much and Bryan should spend his money on something else."

Of course, Bryan assured him that it was completely fine, and that "a good coat is a good investment because it'll last longer and also treating hypothermia would be more expensive anyway". 

David didn't miss the sad look that crossed his face, in spite of the joking. 

Poor Spot couldn't seem to stop thinking of himself as an inconvenience, and that was genuinely sad. 

At least he wore the coat once Bryan insisted on buying it, and David had to admit, that trip was strangely relaxing. Better than staying home worrying about, well, everything. 

And it certainly was nice to see Spot make the short walk across the parking lot without shivering. 


	19. I'm just putting off the actual planned chapters because I'm dreading what happens in them (Denton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it fluff? Is it angst? Trick question, its both!
> 
> Tw for mentions of smoking.

A few days and a heavy snowfall later, at what Sean declared "way too fucking early," Les declared that Sean absolutely had to come outside and play in the new layer of snow, now that he had a good winter coat. 

"Go outside, Sean," Bryan encouraged. "Get some fresh air."

Fresh air was always nice, of course, but mainly it would be a good way to tire everybody out before Jonathan came to talk. A tired Sean was less likely to tell his social worker to shove it and then storm out of the room. 

"Why don't  _ you  _ go outside?"

Besides, it would distract the kid from thinking about Jonathan, his parents, and everything else that was obviously stressing Sean out and making him a grouch. 

"Let's all go out," Sarah suggested, moving to put on her coat. 

It was snowing lightly when they got outside, and the ground was already under several inches of snow. 

Sean seemed a bit uncomfortable, like he wasn't quite sure how to join in on the snowman construction Les had immediately started and roped David and Sarah into joining the labor force. 

Instead, Sean stood off to the side, hands in his pockets. The boy didn't look upset, but Bryan would have preferred to see him including himself. 

He glanced around quickly, clearly didn't notice Bryan watching him, and jumped up to catch a snowflake on his tongue. 

The boy gave a tiny smile, so self satisfied in such a simple little thing that Bryan couldn't contain a laugh. Of course, Sean noticed that, face flushing red with embarrassment at being caught in such an innocent, childish moment. 

Bryan smiled and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling the boy close in a playful wrestling move-like hug. 

Sean squeaked in surprise, but not the displeased kind of surprise that came when he was afraid or annoyed. More of a "nobody has ever roughoused with me before, and I'm not quite sure how to feel about it" kind of surprised. 

He squirmed and wiggled to get away, but it wasn't the desperate, fearful escape Bryan had experienced before when Sean truly felt trapped. He was just playing, acting his age in a way he hadn't felt safe doing before. 

It was incredibly sweet to see Sean having fun, especially now when everything was so stressful for him. Even when that fun apparently included shoving a handful of snow directly into Bryan’s face as some kind of distraction. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” Bryan laughed, brushing snow out of his eyes. 

He decided to take a risk, hoping this wouldn’t backfire and make Sean freak out. 

"Get over here, kid," Bryan growled playfully, grabbing him around the shoulders. He stuck a hand into the side of Sean’s coat, which he had left unzipped, making his ribs and belly vulnerable not only to the cold, but also to tickling. 

The boy yelped, betrayed, and then twisted and wriggled around like a fish in his efforts to escape.

Bryan of course made sure he wasn’t actually frightened or hurt, then continued with the playful assault. 

Sean was trying not to laugh, that much was obvious, but even Mr. Grouch couldn't keep it in forever, especially not when he was in a good mood. 

Finally he lost the stubborn, practiced composure, bursting into a fit of laughter and giggling, a sound Bryan had never once heard the boy make. 

It was a wonderful sound. Purely happiness and trust. That trust was for sure an achievement worth being proud of. 

Sean ducked out of his arms and fell in a heap on the snow, laughing and gasping for air.

“Zip your coat, and I won’t be able to reach,” Bryan pointed out, helping the boy back to his feet. 

That comment earned him a hiss of irritation, but those usually stormy blue eyes were smiling from beneath the scowl. 

It was so hard to remember this boy was fourteen sometimes. Half the time he acted like a grown man who knew every swear word in the world, the other half he seemed to be a small child, still amazed by the world. It seemed to depend on whether or not he felt safe, Bryan realized, suddenly feeling very thankful for every childish, innocent moment he had ever seen with Sean. 

"Come help with the snowman!" Les shouted. 

"Yeah," Sarah agreed with a smile. "Quit messing around and get to work!"

* * *

Bryan sighed as he unloaded the dishwasher. While Jonathan had certainly loosened up recently, he hadn't exactly been much help with the current situation. 

No matter how much the man assured them that the Conlons wouldn't likely cause any more trouble, it was clear Sean was still nervous about his mother's appearance. 

He'd relaxed enough to go to the store and play in the snow for awhile, but now, with Jonathan as a reminder of his past, the boy was back to closing in on himself. Sean had curled up in the living room in his favorite chair, staring blankly out the window ever since Jonathan left. 

Bryan took a seat on the couch, close to Sean but still giving him space if he needed it. 

"Do you really think they're gone?" 

The hoarse words broke the silence like a rusted kitchen knife. 

"I don't know, kiddo."

Bryan didn't want to promise something he wasn't certain of.

"I hope so. And I promise you one thing," he added, putting one hand on Sean's leg. "We're going to keep you safe here, okay?"

Sean nodded, but he was still afraid, Bryan could tell.

He looked tired, which made sense. In the past few days since the concert, Sean hadn't slept much, waking up sporadically from nightmares. Bryan tried suggesting some kind of sleep medication, which had been immediately and aggressively refused. 

They'd all just have to pretend not to smell the cigarette smoke that had made a reappearance in the house now that Sean needed something to calm himself down, and hopefully, things would get better. 

Bryan could smell it faintly now, probably from Sean's clothes or hair. He was just grateful it wasn't anything stronger.

If this got beyond nicotine, they were going to have a problem, and that was not a conversation Bryan wanted to have with a kid who was already scared. 

The last thing Sean needed to be thinking was that another adult in his life, one he was meant to be able to trust, was angry with him. 

The boy shifted in his chair, curling up in what Bryan was coming to recognize as a sign that he was in pain. 

"Take your pills today?"

Steroids, painkillers, whatever the doctor prescribed. Sean still had to make a fuss half the time. 

The boy nodded, wrapping one arm protectively around his stomach. 

"Gets worse when…" he trailed off, staring out the window again. 

_ When you're scared.  _

Didn't take a mind reader to finish that thought. 

The kid was still so small, so fragile. It didn't matter how tough he acted, Sean was still a child, and right now, he was an extremely vulnerable one.

Bryan couldn't make it better, but he could make sure Sean wasn't alone. 


	20. Here we go with drama and stress! (David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad things! Bad things are going to happen!  
> I'm very sorry!

David woke up to the neighbor's dog barking. He glanced at the clock on his phone. 

2:14

Why was the neighbor's dog awake? And more importantly, why was _David_ awake?

_ Probably a possum _ , he thought, turning onto his other side. 

But possums weren't that loud, David realized, jolting awake. 

That was something human-sized. 

Possums didn't whisper to each other, and though he couldn't catch any individual words, David was certain he was hearing human speech and not possum chatter. 

He slipped out of bed, careful to stay as quiet as possible. David froze at the top of the stairs at the sound of the doorknob rattling. 

_ Please be locked _ , he prayed silently. They usually locked up the house at night, but it was always possible Bryan forgot this one time.

Luckily, there was no surprise entrance, and David saw a shadowy figure move past the window. Though he couldn't pick out any specific features, he was pretty sure it was male. 

David tiptoed past the door and into Bryan's room, shaking him gently awake. 

"Bryan," he hissed. "Someone's outside."

Bryan blinked in half-asleep confusion. 

"What? What do you mean?" He asked, entirely too loudly, though honestly still pretty quiet. 

David gestured for him to be quieter anyway. 

"Someone's walking around outside. They tried to open the front door."

That got the man up quickly. 

"What?" He nearly fell out of bed. 

"I heard voices," David explained. "I got up and someone was messing with the lock."

"Go check on Les," Bryan instructed, getting out of bed. 

David nodded and dashed back upstairs. Les was fine, still sleeping like a rock as usual. Instinctively David checked on Spot and Sarah. 

Spot was thankfully still asleep, curled up in the fetal position with only a bit of messy hair peeking out the top of his blanket.

Jenny, like usual, was asleep cuddled alongside his skinny back, and hardly stirred when David came in. 

Sarah was up reading a book in bed, but David was too distracted to bug her about staying up at past two in the morning. 

"What's wrong?" The glow of her bedside table lamp lit up the concerned look on her face as she set down her book. 

"Someone's messing around the house outside. I woke Bryan up already."

Sarah swung her legs out of bed. 

"Are Les and Spot okay?"

David nodded. 

"Still asleep."

_ Thank goodness _ , he added to himself. David adored his brothers, but Les would be entirely too much energy to contain in a situation like this, and Spot hardly seemed to sleep at all lately.

The two siblings went back downstairs, where Bryan was on the phone, looking out the kitchen window into the front yard. 

"It's a green minivan. One of the headlights is out." 

He nodded a greeting to David and Sarah. 

"Police," he said softly. 

David sat down at the kitchen table. He wasn't going to be sleeping until this was resolved, that much was certain. 

"Yes. Alright. Thank you." Bryan hung up the phone. 

"They'll send an officer over to check things out. I'm not sure where the person went, but listen. That car is still running."

David looked out the window. 

"There's someone in the car," he pointed out, looking at the silhouette in the driver's seat.

"Maybe we should turn a light on. If they know we're awake, they might leave."

Bryan nodded, reaching to switch on the light. Immediately a crash could be heard from the garage.

"Stay here," Bryan ordered, heading for the door to the garage. 

David had absolutely no intention of moving, thank you very much. He wasn't an idiot. 

David nearly jumped out of his skin, grabbing his sister's arm as Bryan rushed inside and back to the front door just in time for two figures to dash across the snowy yard and into the waiting car. 

The beat up car squealed away, probably waking up half the neighborhood with the racket. David wondered what could possibly be taking the police so long. 

Bryan came back into the kitchen, making extra sure to lock the door leading to the garage. 

He looked about to say something, but was interrupted. 

"It's my parents." David jumped again at the voice. Spot stood in the doorway to the kitchen, looking terribly small in his baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. "I saw out the window," he explained, trembling slightly. David knew better than to assume it was from the cold.

He could see the way Spot struggled to get a breath in, and wondered how long he'd been standing there, just watching. 

The boy reached for Bryan like a tiny little kid, half hugging, half sitting on the man's lap. 

"Come here, kiddo." Bryan held him close. 

Spot buried his face in the man's chest, and David almost wished the intruders had made it in, just so he could throw a cat directly into their faces. 

"How did they know where we live?" Spot whimpered. He sounded terrified. 

"I don't know, Sean. But it's going to be okay," Bryan promised. Sarah leaned her head on Bryan's shoulder, placing one hand on Spot's arm. 

This was bad, David realized. 

It was more than just a mother wanting to see her son, if in a bit of an inappropriate manner, showing up at school. This was dangerous, and David was worried. She'd come into their home, and really, what else could they assume their intentions were? It couldn't be anything good, that was for sure. 

"Let's get you three back to bed," Bryan suggested, breaking David from his thoughts. 

Spot looked up, thinly veiled fear in his eyes. 

"What if they come back?"

"The door is locked, I checked again. And I'm here, don't worry. Nobody is going to find you."

David wondered how Bryan could possibly promise that. Spot's parents weren't supposed to know where they lived, but clearly they did. They weren't supposed to find them at school, but they did. They'd gotten  _ in _ the garage, and that was terrifyingly close to being in the house. 

Bryan led Spot upstairs, and David and Sarah followed. David's mind raced with worry. 

What if Spot's parents did come back? It wasn't just his mother, they now knew. 

What would they do if they got  _ in _ the house? 

David found himself genuinely afraid for Spot's safety, and because of that, he slept fitfully. 

He didn't want to wake up and learn something had happened in the night. That would be too much to bear. 

* * *

Apparently he wasn't the only one who was worried. In the morning, David found Bryan asleep in the hallway outside Spot's bedroom door. 

_ This isn't right,  _ David thought angrily. Spot was home, and he should be  _ safe _ .

David went downstairs as quietly as he could. The day was starting, whether they were ready for it or not, and David intended to be ready. 

Nobody was going to take his brother away, even if David had to fight them off himself. 


	21. Shit Sucks (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure my Boots is waaaaay OOC, but do I care? Not really. 
> 
> Tw for some dark thoughts and mentions of death.

Spot slept late the next day. Not well, but he slept. Unfortunately, he couldn't sleep forever, as wonderful as conflict avoidance sounded right about now. 

Spot curled up tight under his blanket, trying to make the pain in his stomach go away. It really did seem like everything that could possibly make things worse was going to happen. 

Last night had been both terrifying and embarrassing, what with the whole breaking and entering and then having an emotional breakdown in front of David and Sarah for the second time that week. 

Everything sucked,and Spot didn't want to face the world ever again. 

Well, he was going to have to, and he might as well just get it over with. 

The second Spot got downstairs, he was greeted by a child-sized cannonball by the name of Les slamming into his side. 

"Finally, you're up!" He shrieked, making Spot and his ringing ears really wish he was not up. 

Les excitedly explained that, while he wasn't supposed to wake Spot up, he had done preparations to make sure he felt safe. Spot figured he was supposed to be touched by the thought, however, he really wasn't sure how having the door barricaded made for anything but a fire hazard. 

Spot wasn't in the mood for any of this. 

Not David's obvious worry, not Sarah's kindness, not even Bryan's gentle understanding. Certainly not any more of Les bouncing off the walls and trying to barricade the garage with any and everything he could get his hands on. 

No, Spot didn't want to talk to any of them, at least, not right now. 

Because none of them got it. Not really. They didn't get  _ why  _ all he wanted to do was zone out, not think. They let him, sure, but it was weird, and Spot could  _ feel _ the worried eyes on him constantly.

Spot knew they were trying, but he needed to talk to someone who understood, not just someone who was understanding. 

He needed to talk to Boots. 

It had been awhile since he'd texted what was supposed to be his best friend, Spot realized guiltily. But Boots, like the good friend he had always been, responded almost immediately. 

They made plans to meet up in an hour, and Spot suddenly realized just how late he had slept. It was almost noon, and even for him, a passionate hater of early mornings, that was pretty late to be getting out of bed. 

He managed to lose Les' attention by some miracle, and slipped out the door. It wasn't like he was sneaking away at night, so Bryan probably wouldn't care, but the whole point was to get  _ away _ from everyone, so having Les tag along would just be irritating and defeat the whole purpose.

The walk to his and Boots' preferred meeting place was much more pleasant now that he had a coat, and Spot made it in just under the hour he'd planned for.

They hadn't met here in years, but this part of the riverfront was still a total dump. Some of that was because of it being December, of course, and under a highway bridge not exactly being a tourist destination, but it was also just generally not a well looked after part of town.

Spot slipped past a chain that was supposedly meant to keep him and all the other local delinquents out and picked his way down under the road. 

Cigarette butts, cans and glass, and the remains of campfires dotted the sloped bank to the river. 

Boots sat on a "wall" that was more a pile of rocks than anything else. 

"Hey, Spot. What's up?" 

Spot sank down next to him. 

"Everything's fucked." 

Boots smiled a little. 

"I assume you wanna talk about it?"

"My parents showed up. At my house."

Spot kicked a beer can away towards the water. 

"Well… fuck. That's not fun."

Spot snorted and stood, kicking more trash around. 

"You're telling me. They broke into the fucking garage."

"Wow," Boots said simply. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel about them." 

Spot nodded. 

Boots didn't try to tell him everything was fine, because it  _ wasn't.  _ Sometimes things just sucked. 

It was nice to have someone who understood that. 

He picked up a rock and skipped it across the water. It didn't really skip, seeing as the water was moving, but Spot got two little bounces before it sank. 

He stared at the water rushing by, gray and cold and dirty. As long as Spot could remember, the river hadn't ever frozen completely, just a thin layer along the edges. 

It wasn't even technically a river, according to one of the people Spot lived with for a few months. That man, Joshua, hadn't even kicked Spot out. He was just old, and sometimes old people died without any warning. 

Spot shivered despite his coat, remembering Joshua's cold skin that morning when he never woke up. 

That was a really bad day. 

Spot grabbed another rock and threw it, this time not bothering with skipping, just let it splash in the water. He just needed to throw something, hard. 

This happened  _ every fucking time.  _ Spot had something good, something he thought might last, but something always came along to ruin it. 

Why did he even bother anymore? It was pointless. Mom and Dad had already broken into their  _ home.  _

It was only a matter of time before Bryan decided he was just putting the rest of the family in danger by keeping Spot around, and he'd get handed off onto whoever was dumb enough to accept. 

The river, no, the  _ creek _ looked so dark from here. Cold and dark and uncontrollably, terrifyingly wild. 

Spot wondered what would happen if he fell in. Would he freeze first, or drown first? Which would be worse? Drowning sounded scarier, like more of an attack from the water. Freezing would be like falling asleep. 

Peaceful. 

Spot didn't think he'd ever felt peaceful in his life, not really. Not long enough to count for anything. 

"If you need anything, a place to stay or whatever, we've got room." Boots' voice tugged Spot out of the darkness threatening to drown him in his own mind. 

"Thanks," he said softly, still staring at the water. 

"It just sucks, you know?"

Boots tossed a rock of his own into the river. 

"Shit sucks. Just have to make the best of it, I guess."

Spot kicked at a glass bottle, enjoying the way it shattered against the concrete "wall". 

"Shit sucks," he agreed. 


	22. Sad things (Spot&Denton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I fully intended to make this chapter longer but it ended up being exactly 1000 words and I didn't wanna ruin it. 
> 
> Also, I feel like I've made the chapters a bit too repetitive and my characterization of Spot has had about one emotion ever, so we're gonna try and fix that.  
> Emotion #2 : angree  
> Because I feel like that's more true to the character.  
> Lmk what ya think♡

"Sean, where were you?"

Shit. So they had noticed. 

"The fuck is it to you?" Spot snapped. He shouldn't talk to Bryan like this, he knew he shouldn't. He was just so angry. 

Spot tried to shove past the man, but he put out an arm and wouldn't let him through. 

"Sean. Do not ignore me."

Of course Bryan had to choose  _ now _ to finally do the whole "stern parent" thing. Right when Spot wasn't in the fucking mood to listen to anyone. 

Spot ducked under Bryan's arm and went up to his room. He'd ignore Bryan if he felt like it. 

Spot slammed the door to his room, enjoying the way the walls shook, letting everyone in the house know that  _ Spot is Really Fucking Angry.  _

He paced back and forth, not wanting to be still.

He wanted to hit something. Actually, he wanted to hit some _ one _ , but Spot wasn't that far into his own head to think that was a good idea. 

He settled for hitting the wall, which turned out to also be a bad idea, if his now bruised knuckles were anything to go by. 

The pain just made him angrier. 

Spot deserved to be hurt. He deserved to have everyone hate him. All he ever did was fuck things up. These people, these wonderful, loving people, let him stay in their  _ home _ , and look at what it got them. A dent in the wall and people breaking into the house. And for what? Him? Spot wasn't worth shit. 

Jack's stupid voice bombarded his thoughts. 

_ "Do you have any idea how hard it is for them?" _

He was an inconvenience, no, worse, Spot was a danger to them. 

_ "A total fuckup stranger…" _

If it weren't so completely unfunny, Spot might have laughed at how accurate that was. 

His knuckles were bleeding by now, but something about hitting the wall again and again was just so very satisfying. 

If Spot could punish himself for all of this, maybe the world wouldn't feel the need to do it for him. 

"Sean!" 

Bryan grabbed his hands. When had he gotten here? 

And why the  _ fuck _ did he think he had any right to stop Spot?

"Sean, you  _ cannot  _ just wander off like that."

Bryan looked...mad. Spot didn't know how to handle him being mad. Bryan didn't  _ get _ mad. 

Spot had really messed up, hadn't he? He was already causing a problem just by existing, and he just had to make it worse.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

Bryan gripped Spot's arms tight, shaking him lightly. 

That was too much. Too much. Too much like before. Like being a little kid with big parents grabbing you and shaking you and holding you down and pressing a hot ember to your chest while you screamed, begged them to stop, just stop, please stop. 

Someone was screaming. Was it Spot? He had no idea. 

He had to get away. The hands keeping him trapped were gone. Spot stumbled back, curling up tight into a ball. 

Pathetic.

So pathetic, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care right then. The only thing that mattered was protecting himself. 

_ Hide your face. Hide your throat, your stomach, between your legs. Don't let them touch you there.  _

All that existed was the pounding of his heart. 

"Sean." The voice was gentle. Soft. No shouting, no drunken slurring. Bryan. It was Bryan. Bryan was safe and Bryan was calm and Bryan wouldn't hurt him. 

Spot uncurled himself, looking up into Bryan's eyes. 

"Sean, I'm sorry. I did not mean to scare you like that. I am so sorry." He looked sincere. 

He wouldn't hurt him. He never had. 

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't know where you were. I thought…" 

Bryan sighed, leaving his thought unfinished. Spot knew what he'd thought. He would have thought it too, probably. 

And now he was what everyone wanted. They wanted the sad, pathetic kid. The one they could hug and feel like they were making it all better. It wasn't better. It would never  _ be  _ better. 

But maybe it could be a little less bad. 

* * *

“Stop, please, stop. Just stop.” 

Bryan cursed himself for being so thoughtless. He should have known Sean would be frightened by anything even resembling aggression. He was already so on edge after the sudden appearance of his mother; it was absolutely understandable for him to panic at being manhandled like that. 

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't know where you were. I thought…" 

He didn't want to say it out loud. He'd feared the worst, that Sean's mother had found them.  _ Taken  _ him. 

He offered a hand, and blessedly, Sean took it, shifting to lean against Bryan's side. At least they didn't seem to be quite back at square one, but Bryan still wondered how much he had ruined with that outburst. He wouldn’t blame the boy for losing faith in him. 

“I went to see Boots.”

“Boots?”

“My friend. I needed…” Sean looked like he didn’t know what he needed. “I needed to see him,” he finished after a moment of pause. 

“Sean, you can’t just leave without telling anyone, okay? Next time, let me or David or Sarah know you’re leaving, and where you’re going.”

He thought he had lost his boy. His little Sean. Les was his youngest, his baby, and yet… Bryan couldn’t help but worry more about this boy right now, this angry, broken, fragile boy.

Of course, he would worry if Les just wandered off, what kind of parent wouldn’t? But with Les, it would be a flighty distraction, a young boy off chasing his imagination. Not good, and Bryan would worry and fret and do anything he could to find him, but it wouldn’t be a panicked escape, a vulnerable yet hard headed child who had to practically be forced to take his medication running off on his own, or worse, being  _ taken.  _

Because right now, with Sean, that was an all too real possibility. 


	23. Look out, bad stuff. (David&Racetrack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm having some writers block so Idk man. We doin our bestest here♡
> 
> Happy pride month tho!  
> My first one out of the closet!!!!
> 
> Also huge huge HUGE thank you to all of yall who commented. I'd go to war for every one of you. ♡♡♡

David flicked through another book to price. It wasn't damaged or anything, just used. Warren, the owner of  _ Shelved _ , a used bookstore, trusted David enough to determine prices on new merchandise, a job that actually required critical thinking skills, not just the ability to alphabetize. 

David scribbled the price on a sticker and attached it gently to the dust jacket. He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. 

"What's wrong?" Katherine, the other employee of the tiny store, hopped up on the counter, making it impossible for David to continue working. 

Sneaky, and effective. David had to take a break if Katherine was  _ sitting on  _ his work. 

"Just tired, Katherine. My brother  _ does not sleep  _ anymore, and it's kinda hard for  _ me  _ to sleep when he stays up pacing and smoking," David complained. "It's disgusting."

_ But hey, keeps him from having a panic attack, so I'm not going to complain about it.  _

"Isn't your brother, like, ten?"

Had David really forgotten to tell Katherine about Spot?

"New brother. He's fourteen."

Well now he made Spot sound like a dog. 

"His name's Spot."

_ Not making it any better, David.  _

Katherine looked confused now. "New brother…?"

"Sorry, I'm just dead tired," David explained. 

"A couple months ago, Bryan agreed to an emergency foster placement, but it's actually wound up being permanent."

Katherine nodded. Good, at least now David was making  _ sense. _

"But anyways, right now he's going through...stuff, and he isn't sleeping. At all. Like, he is up all night."

_ And I'm driving myself nuts worrying.  _

Spot couldn't keep going like he was. He didn't sleep, and only ate when Bryan forced him to. 

"What kind of stuff?" Katherine asked curiously, then immediately backtracked. 

"You don't have to tell me, nevermind. It's none of my business."

David waved off the apology. "You're fine. It's been a real interesting couple of months. I can't believe I never told you."

He'd better start at the beginning. 

Start with Spot's arrival, his general hatred for everyone and everything. How Spot got along with no one. 

He told her how Spot joined band, made friends, punched Jack in the face, got a boyfriend and a cat. 

Katherine listened as David explained all the horrible, scary hospital stuff. All the visits and appointments and conversations David wished he wasn't there for. 

And she listened when David told her how Spot slowly but surely allowed himself to be absorbed into their lives, and suddenly, David realized the boy who'd told him to fuck off immediately after they met, that angry, scrawny little goblin child, had become family. 

And now they might lose him. Maybe forever. 

David couldn't control the tremor in his voice when he told Katherine about Spot's parents showing up. 

He was surprised to find that he was crying, though really, it was probably to be expected.

"Katherine, he's my brother. I can't lose him, not after all that."

It would be the same as losing Les. David's heart just wouldn't be able to take it. 

Katherine pulled him into a hug, gentle as always. She knew how David was about being touched, so Katherine always moved slowly with her hugs. 

"It's gonna work out, just you watch. We'll make sure of it."

David sniffled a bit. 

"What?"

Katherine released him from her hug. 

"Well. I can't fix everything, obviously, but if we work together, we can fix  _ something _ , surely?"

Katherine really was something herself, David thought with a smile. 

"I guess so. But what?"

Katherine shoved her hair back, clearly lost in thought. 

"How about we work on that sleeping problem you mentioned? You could bring him in here. Guarantee Warren will not care."

"Here?" David asked, surprised.

"Why not? It's quiet, calm, and most importantly, nobody would ever think to look for him here."

David nodded, wiping the tear streaks off his eyes. That was true. 

"Katherine, you're a genius."

"I know." 

She hopped off the counter. 

"But you're pretty good yourself."

David turned back to his work, much more relaxed now that he had a plan, no matter how small. He could give Spot one day of peace. 

* * *

Racetrack paced his bedroom back and forth. 

Bed, wall, desk, lamp. Bed, wall, desk, lamp. 

"If you don't quit that, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor."

Racetrack very nearly tripped and died on his backpack that he should probably empty at some point over break at the sound of Dante's voice. 

"I don't care," Racetrack said snippily. 

"I'll wear a hole in the floor and then dig a tunnel to Spot's house and Mom won't be able to keep me from seeing him."

Sure, that was a bit dramatic, but Racetrack was  _ mad.  _ Spot needed him, and his mom didn't want him going over. 

"Tony, maybe she's right" Dante, being a  _ traitor _ , said, sitting down on the bed in a futile, see-through attempt to get Racetrack to join him. 

"I mean, the last thing his family needs right now is another person to worry about just hanging around the house."

Racetrack growled and paced some more. 

"Dante, that's my boyfriend. You don't know what he's like. What he's been through. Fuck, Dante," Racetrack swore, giving his brother a "Dont Tell Mom" look.

"He won't admit it, but even I can tell he's scared."

He flopped onto the bed next to his favorite older brother. 

"I just wanna help him," he admitted, sounding very sad and childish, and not particularly caring.

Dante put an arm around his shoulder. 

"I get it, Tony. But I'm thinking what he needs right now is probably for you to just be there to talk, not showing up and making things complicated."

Racetrack sighed. "Maybe. I  _ don't  _ like it, though."

Dante gave a little smile. 

"Well, you'd be a real dick if you liked this kinda mess, wouldn't you?"

Racetrack snorted a half-laugh. 

"How about this," Dante offered, cementing his place as Best Brother Ever. 

"We put together a box of like, gifts or whatever, and I'll take you to drop it off on his porch. Ben and I did it back and forth when we didn't have time to really see each other with school."

"That's incredibly dorky and I love it," Racetrack declared, clapping his hands excitedly. 

"Alright. Now stop wearing out Mom's carpet?" Dante teased, and Racetrack faked a scowl.

"Fine. Thanks, Dante."

"Anytime, Ant."

"Screw you, I'm not an ant anymore." Racetrack threw a pillow at Dante's head to chase him out. 

"Whatever you say, small stuff."

Racetrack laughed as karma made his brother whack his stupid 6 foot head on the doorframe as he left, then set to plotting. There was important work to be done, and had to figure out what to give Spot to make him feel better. 

_ Look out, bad stuff. Racetrack Higgins is coming. _


	24. Denton (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My arthritis is acting up, which is not fun!  
> But I went for a run anyway, which was not smart!  
> Now I'm in so much pain, but like, a good pain, a pain that says "yes, we did a healthy thing!"
> 
> Experiencing writers block with this fic a bit, mainly because it actually means a lot to me, and I wanna do it right.

Spot grumbled the entire car ride until Bryan dropped them off. 

He didn't  _ want  _ to go hang out at a bookstore, even if David worked there. 

Everybody seemed to think this was some big deal, a great way to make Spot feel safe and secure and all that bullshit. 

It just made him mad. 

Spot rubbed at his eyes, trying to make the headache go away. God, he was so tired. And his leg hurt like hell, a stabbing pain shooting up from ankle to hip with every step. His stomach too, and he wanted to be left alone, just curl up and hopefully die. 

All in all, Spot was not in the mood for all this mess, no matter how much Bryan insisted it would be good for him to relax. 

Spot didn't want to relax, because if he relaxed, he'd end up letting his guard down, and that could only end badly. 

He'd been letting himself loosen up lately, and look where it got him. He'd gone soft. 

It didn't matter how much Bryan said he loved him, it was still up to Spot to be strong and make sure he was safe. Things wouldn't be okay if he relied on other people. They didn't get it, so how were they meant to protect Spot from people like his parents?

Spot tried to remind himself of all Bryan had done. How he'd stayed by his side through everything, no matter how scary. He didn't care if Spot was a dick, or if he was ungrateful. Bryan was just  _ there _ , no matter what. 

And David, Sarah, Les. They were the same, in their own ways. 

Spot still couldn't feel safe. 

He climbed out of the car and had to suppress every curse word he knew from coming out. That  _ hurt _ . His leg felt like ice stabbing up the inside, focusing on his joints. 

_ Wonderful. Fucking wonderful.  _

Spot winced at the pain as he limped along. To top it all off, his leg decided to give out without warning. Just stopped working, and he fell in a heap on the stairs. 

"Fucking hell!"

God, that  _ hurt _ . David tried to help, offering a hand and fluttering about like an idiot, but Spot waved him off. 

"I'm fine. I got it. Hey," he snapped, shoving David away. "I said I'm  _ fine. _ "

David stepped back, hands up placatingly. "Okay, no need to bite my head off. I'm just trying to help." 

He looked hurt, and Spot almost felt bad, but he shoved the guilty thoughts away while also shoving through the door. 

A bell jingled irritatingly, and Spot considered just walking back out and down the road and never coming back, but the pain in his leg made that absolutely not an option. 

He was greeted by a smiling man wearing glasses, who Spot immediately decided to hate.

"David, how are you doing? Is this the brother we've heard about?"

He turned the smile to Spot, who absolutely was not in the mood for this kind of friendliness. 

"Buzz off, Specs," Spot snapped, ignoring David's sigh of apology behind him. 

Spot didn't want to spend all day here, in this weird, tiny old store. It smelled like old books, which was not in itself a bad smell, but one that pissed him off nonetheless. 

Spot curled up in a small corner between a bookshelf and the wall and hoped nobody would come try and talk to him. He really wanted to be alone, just for a little bit. Everyone was always  _ watching _ him, like they had to make sure he didn't shatter into a million pieces. 

He hated it. 

"Sean?"

Fucking  _ Bryan  _ had to come inside and start looking for him, of course. 

He knelt on the floor next to Spot. 

"Can you not just leave me alone?" He growled. 

"Sean, I know that you're scared," Bryan began, and Spot snapped back. "I'm not fucking scared. I don't want to  _ be  _ here, so why do I have to be nice?"

The man sighed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

"Because, Sean, you have to learn to do things you don't want to. That's just life."

Spot hissed at him, unable to come up with any actual words to respond to that. 

"Hey," Denton said sharply, and Spot twisted away from the annoyance he could feel like a physical presence. 

"Use your words. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I've never had a choice in anything my whole life!" Spot burst out. 

"I do all kinds of shit I don't want to. Sometimes it works out, but sometimes it doesn't, Denton. Sometimes I get away from...from people like  _ them _ , and sometimes I get dumped on people worse."

Spot choked on the words, he was so angry. The way the man recoiled at being called Denton after weeks of being just Bryan was not lost on Spot. 

"Quit acting like you get it, because you  _ don't.  _ Don't tell me everything's gonna be fine; I'm not that stupid. Sometimes things don't work out.  _ That's just life _ ."

Spot turned away to face the wall, wiping away the tears threatening to escape. 

A hand in between his shoulders made Spot jump. 

"Hey. Sean, look at me."

"Don't  _ touch me _ ," Spot growled, refusing to look up. He wasn't about to let anyone see him cry again. He'd cried so much in front of the man. No more. Not now. 

"Okay. I'll talk then. Sean, you know I love you. I would do anything to keep you safe, but you gotta let me." He sighed.

"Kiddo, I know this is hard. I'm not going to pretend like I understand, but I'm not completely stupid." Spot could hear the man shifting just a bit closer. 

"We care about you, we love you, and there is no limit to that love. None, you hear me?" His fingers traced Spot's cheekbone, gently wiping away the few tears he couldn't quite keep in. Spot didn't shove the hand away. 

Bryan continued, his voice sounding very very tired all of a sudden. 

"But Sean, you can't be acting like this. It's not fair to people who want to help, like David and Warren, and it's not fair to  _ you.  _ You're hurting yourself." He sighed again. 

"Kid, there's people who care about you, and we want to help, but you gotta let us, okay?"

Spot nodded slowly. He was still angry and miserable and really wanted to be alone, but maybe Bryan was right. 

"Okay, I have to go, but I'll be back to get you both at close, alright?"

"Okay."

"Behave," Bryan said with a teasing sternness. "I love you, buddy."

Spot gave him a little smile in response. He didn't quite feel up to saying it back, but hopefully Bryan could tell that he felt it. 


	25. I'm literally just putting off the next few planned chapters (David&Katherine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that modern Spot likes cars a lot.  
> I dont know a ton about cars, but I do build robots, so I can do research and BS the rest. 
> 
> Katherine is just a sweetie and I love her.

David sighed as Spot stormed off into the maze of bookshelves. 

"Warren, I'm sorry," he said. "He's…"

His boss nodded. "I understand. He's going through a lot right now. It's fine. Hey, Bryan."

David turned to see his father coming through the door after them. 

"Hello Warren. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay before I left." He turned to David. "Where's Sean?"

David pointed in the general direction Spot had stomped off in. "He's not happy, that's for sure."

Bryan sighed. "I'll go talk to him." 

David doubted that would go over well, considering what a bad mood Spot seemed to be in, but to be fair, Bryan had worked miracles with Mr. Ornery before, so maybe he'd work that same magic now. 

"I'm really sorry," David repeated once Bryan was gone. Warren waved him off. 

"David, I promise, it's fine. Want to help me put up this sign?" 

Warren changed the subject, holding up a banner for the annual New Years Eve sale. David nodded, and together, they managed to attach the bright colorful canvas to the front of the little store. 

By the time they finished, Bryan was walking out. David waved as he left, climbing down from the ladder. 

"Thanks, David. Katherine's inside shelving, if you could go give her a hand." David nodded and went inside, grateful to be out of the cold. 

He should probably make sure Spot was okay before getting to work. 

David wandered around for a bit, wishing for the first time ever that the store was just a  _ bit _ more open concept. 

Finally he found his brother, squished in a corner between a bookshelf and the wall. 

"Oh my  _ god,"  _ Spot groaned. "Can you people not leave me alone for two seconds?" He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. 

"Sorry," Spot mumbled, immediately switching from angry to repentant for literally no reason. Sleep deprivation did strange things to Spot. 

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I got to work," David explained. 

"Why don't you sit in a chair?" He gestured for Spot to get up, and surprisingly, the boy followed behind him. 

David got Spot settled in a comfy reading chair with a book about mechanics that looked boring as all get out, but Spot insisted he wanted to read. 

"Okay, I'll be around if you need me," David said awkwardly. Spot hummed a response, already deeply involved in his book.

David went to find Katherine, feeling all the tension release from his body at seeing Spot finally relax. Spot relaxed, so now David could relax. Relax and enjoy a job he loved with a good friend. David genuinely smiled for the first time in days. 

* * *

Katherine slid another book into its place on the already bending shelf. This wasn't her favorite part of the job, but she didn't mind it. 

She turned a corner around the shelf and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of a person curled up in one of the armchairs. People didn't typically sit here, since it was kind of dark and out of the way, but apparently David's brother had no problem with straining his eyes.

"Oh, hello! You're Spot, right?" The boy looked up from his thick book, staring at her suspiciously, but not quite as angry as she would have expected after what David told her. 

"Or would you rather I call you Sean? It's your name. Mine is Katherine, by the way."

He blinked, closing the book but keeping one hand to hold his place.

Katherine immediately felt bad. David said his brother wanted to be alone, and here she went interrupting his reading!

"Spot is fine. You work here?"

She nodded, relieved that he wasn't angry about the disturbance. "I was hired just a few months ago, around the same time David did. Warren got more business, so he needed more help."

Katherine tilted her head to look at Spot's book. "What are you reading?"

He lifted it to give her a better view of the cover. 

"See for yourself. It's about cars," he explained, an excited light flickering behind his guarded eyes. 

"It's got all kinds of diagrams of motors and stuff. Look," he showed Katherine a picture that meant absolutely nothing to her, but which Spot looked at like it held all the secrets of the universe. 

"I don't know much about machinery," Katherine admitted, crouching down to get a better look. Spot clearly didn't care about her ignorance. 

"Me either, I just like learning about it. Look." He flicked the pages again, holding up a different picture. 

"It shows how the cooling system works."

"Cool," Katherine said. She knew what a cooling system  _ was _ , but also had no desire to learn any more beyond that. 

"You know," she said thoughtfully, trying to change the subject to one she knew  _ something  _ about. "That book's kind of dated. Why don't we find you a more recent one?"

He waved her off. "This one's fine. I'm only half done, but I can probably finish before I leave."

"Warren would probably let you keep it," Katherine pointed out. Spot bristled at that, surprising her with the sudden irritability. 

"I don't need his handouts, and I don't want them," he snapped, turning back to his reading with a frown. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Katherine said quickly. "It's just that to learn all about it, you'd have to read it more than once probably, and also that book probably won't sell anyway and it's taking up shelf space…" She trailed off, all too aware that she was so obviously flustered. 

Spot sighed. "You're fine. I'm sorry. It's whatever. I appreciate the suggestion, but I'm good. Thanks." He buried his nose back in the pages, clearly to end the conversation, seeing as his eyes didn't move at all. 

"Okay," Katherine said softly. "I'd better get back to work. It was nice meeting you, Spot."

Maybe she was imagining it, but as Katherine walked away, she could have sworn she heard Spot say  _ nice to meet you, too.  _


	26. What do you mean your therapist doesnt lick their toes during a session??(Spot&Denton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, contains underage smoking and drug usage.
> 
> Also, my only experience with weed is from my coworkers who smoke at work and drive me bonkers.

Spot was drowning. It was so dark, so cold, he was alone. Where was he? Water, everywhere. 

He wanted to scream, call for Bryan, or David, or Sarah to come help him, but the only word he could force his lips to form was Aiden, his birth father's name. 

Aiden, who of course didn't come. 

Spot woke up in a panic. For a split second, he had no idea where he was. It was dark, like the water.

He was in bed. Safe. 

Spot gripped his blanket until his knuckles turned white. He chewed at the first knuckle on his middle finger, forcing his mind to focus on that, not the waves of cold and dark and lonely that all wanted to drown him. 

Spot shivered, even with the blanket. 

He knew one surefire way to calm down, but Bryan wouldn't like it. 

Cigarettes were one thing; smoking an actual illegal substance was another, and even Spot had to admit that. 

But he was just so fucking anxious, so tired of feeling so completely  _ awful.  _

He'd do anything to get rid of that feeling, just for a little while. 

Spot fumbled around under the mattress where he'd shoved his leftover stash from the last home, which also happened to be the home of a drug dealer who was more than happy to supply Spot with weed. He'd kind of forgotten it was there, since he hadn't really felt the urge to smoke for awhile, but evidently nobody had found it. 

Spot struggled a bit while rolling it up, since it was dark and he was out of practice, but he managed to get it rolled and lit. The entire time, he knew that this was a bad idea, but his fingers kept going anyway. 

The knot in his stomach loosened just a bit, enough that it was no longer painful and more an uneasiness that Spot could handle.

Soon, even that was gone, and Spot was actually relaxed. He felt... _ good _ . Calm. Like things were actually okay for once. 

After a little while, Spot finished his smoking, finally relaxed enough to fall back asleep. He didn't really have it in him to care that the room smelled like weed. Bryan would be pissed, but Spot couldn't be bothered to stress about that. He just curled up under his blanket and went back to sleep. 

* * *

Spot woke up fairly relaxed, a weird feeling lately. The smell from last night still lingered a bit, probably on his clothes and hair. Bryan would certainly notice, a thought which did not make Spot feel particularly relaxed. 

But his stomach didn't hurt at all, and for once he wasn't completely exhausted immediately after waking up. 

Spot put on warmer, more daytime friendly clothes and headed downstairs to be greeted by stupid morning person Bryan sitting at the table. 

"Morning, Sean. Get something to eat."

That was how just about every morning was. Spot woke up, Bryan immediately insisted he eat something. It was annoying, but in a nice, caring kind of way.

Spot moved to lift Jenny, who was curled up, picture of elegance and beauty, a hair-covered centerpiece that would certainly get any restaurant shut down for health reasons. 

Bryan pulled him closer and sniffed his hair, which really pissed Spot off for some reason. 

"Sean." His voice had an edge to it that Spot didn't recognize, and one he certainly did not like. 

"Have you been smoking again?"

"What's it to you?" Spot snapped, immediately defensive. Why was it any of Bryan's business what he did?

"This has to stop, right now," Bryan said firmly. 

For some reason, Spot's blood started to boil at that. 

"Why?" He snapped. "It's not like that's the only way for me to fucking sleep or anything."

Bryan groaned, running a hand through his hair. 

"Sean, that's not healthy. And it could get you taken away, do you want that?"

"I don't  _ care _ , Bryan. Leave me alone." Spot shoved the man away.

He  _ did  _ care, actually he cared a lot, but it didn't  _ matter _ what Spot wanted, because nobody else gave a fuck anyway. 

Bryan stared at him in obvious shock, putting his hands on Spot's shoulders and forcing him to look him in the eyes. 

"Sean, don't you get it? If Jonathan finds out about this-" Spot cut him off.

"What makes you think I care what Jonathan knows or doesn't know? You don't even-"

"Enough!" Bryan shouted. Actually shouted, and for one split second, Spot was afraid. He froze, but then something snapped inside him. 

"Fuck you, Bryan. I hate you!" Spot jerked himself free, shoving Bryan away. 

The man turned around, gripping the counter to calm himself down. Spot breathed fast and heavy, trying not to panic or explode or any of the hundred different things his brain was screaming for him to do. 

"Sean." Bryan's voice was carefully controlled, but he was clearly upset. 

"Go for a walk. We are going to talk more when we both have a chance to cool down."

Spot slammed the door as hard as he could on the way out. 

* * *

Bryan held his head in his hands, staring at the table. Jenny did not think this was a good plan, and butted her head under his, wanting to be petted. 

He sighed and ran a hand through her soft fur. 

"That kid…" he trailed off. 

Jenny purred in response. She'd gotten much friendlier lately, and Bryan was well aware that it was largely because of Sean and how much she loved the boy. 

"Am I being too hard on him, Jenny?" The calico blinked at him, still purring away. 

"He's scared, I know that. But I can't just pretend like drugs aren't bad. He's gonna hurt himself."

Jenny chirped and rubbed against Bryan's chest. 

He sighed, scratching under her chin. 

"You're right. I shouldn't have snapped like that. I'll apologize as soon as he gets back, and we can talk, like civilized cats."

Jenny, good little mediator/therapist that she was, spread her toes for a morning bath in the middle of the kitchen.

The picture of elegance. 


	27. Things go from bad to very very bad (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWs at the end because contain spoilers.
> 
> I got to hold a lizard at work today. I work at a sandwich shop so this was unusual.

Spot kicked a rock along the road, taking care not to slip. Falling in the cold wet slush all over the ground would just be the icing on the cake of how fucking awful he felt right now.

Already he regretted everything he'd said. Spot didn't hate Bryan, and he didn't want the man to think he did. 

But what did it matter? He couldn't go back. Not now. He knew exactly how the "talk" Bryan wanted to have would go. He'd heard it plenty. Spot would be "better off" someplace else. Someplace where they could handle someone like him. A problem. 

Bryan would put some positive spin on it, like how now his parents wouldn't know where Spot was anymore. Sure, that'd be the reason. Then Bryan wouldn't have to look at it like he failed. People like Bryan didn't like knowing they failed at this kind of thing. 

Spot dragged a hand across his eyes, which were absolutely not filling with tears right then. 

He couldn't go back. Having Bryan send him away was far more than Spot could handle. Better just to leave on his own. 

Spot had been walking for well over an hour, and by now Bryan would be wondering-  _ No.  _ Spot wasn't going to think about Bryan. Bryan wouldn't be worried, because now he had no obligation to love Spot anymore. The man would be just fine. 

Though Spot was pretty sure that he was not just fine, and was in fact kind of lost. He was in a parking lot that he didn't recognize, for some office building. 

"Hey, kid!"

A sleazy looking man called from a nearby parking space. 

"Gimme a hand here?" He gestured to his car, which seemed to have nothing wrong with it whatsoever. It was also much nicer than Spot would have expected such a creepy dude to drive, but whatever. 

Either way, Spot wasn't nearly dumb enough to go anywhere near this guy. He kept walking, kicking his rock through the slippery parking lot. 

Then he saw something that made his heart turn as cold and still as the asphalt beneath his feet. 

An all too familiar green minivan. His mother was in the passenger seat. 

Too late, Spot realized there was someone behind him, quickly and none too gently pinning his arms to his sides. 

"Get off me!" Spot screamed, thrashing to escape. There were so many cars in the lot, so why were there no fucking  _ people? _

Sleazy guy was now in the seat behind Spot's "mother", meaning apparently he was in on it. 

Why was she  _ smiling? _ It was like she thought he wanted to be with her despite the thrashing and fighting to avoid getting any closer. Spot didn't want to be anywhere near that level of crazy, but they were nearly to the car, despite his best efforts. 

Spot didn't think, he just bit down hard on the closest hand. The man, who he now recognized as Aiden, his sperm donor, shoved him into the backseat with a curse and a blow to the side of his head. 

Spot blinked, dazed, as the car started and then squealed out of the lot. 

He stared at the back of his "mother's" head. She didn't deserve to be called his mother. She didn't even deserve to be called by her  _ name.  _

Deirdre. A perfectly nice name, which the woman had completely ruined. 

Spot was going to be sick. He was so  _ stupid _ . 

Why couldn't he have just  _ talked _ to Bryan, like a normal person? He just had to be an idiot about it. And now look what had happened. 

How had they found him? 

They were talking like this was completely normal, but Spot couldn't focus on any of the words. 

All he could think about was Bryan singing to him at night, holding him in the hospital, making sure he ate every day. Every minute took him farther and farther away from the first person Spot had ever felt so completely safe with. 

The last thing he'd said to Bryan was "I hate you." 

A lie, and a cruel one. 

But at least this way, with all the family love stuff gone, Bryan wouldn't worry. That was some comfort, but the kind of comfort cutting off your arm to stop the pain of having it cooked alive would bring. 

"Patrick, baby, don't you recognize us?" 

Spot stared out the window, refusing to look Deirdre in the eyes. 

He recognized her alright. Recognized her just fine as one of many faces from his nightmares. He recognized Aiden too. The man a four year old Spot looked up to because he felt like he was supposed to, and because Daddy was tall enough to reach the shelf with the cups, and little Spot/Sean/Patrick wished he was tall enough to do that, just in case they forgot to give him a drink of water today...

Spot gritted his teeth, forcing the memory back down into the hole he'd tried to lock it in. 

The only person he didn't recognize was the one sitting next to him, the sleazy looking dude. 

"It's me, your Mama!" She chirped, tugging on his hair in what was probably supposed to be a playful way. 

"And Daddy's here too, and this is our friend Daniel." She smiled, waving a hand at sleazy man, who apparently had a name, meaning he was born to human parents and not spawned in a slime pit. 

"It's been so long since we've all been together as a family," Deirdre lamented, putting one hand on her husband's arm. He nodded along, smiling at her in a way that reminded Spot that he still had two parents to worry about. 

Judging by Aiden's face, he was hungover. That was just  _ great.  _ Why was he the one driving? 

"Kid, you know how to talk?" Sleazy guy Daniel flicked the side of Spot's head, and he forced himself not to cringe at the touch. 

"Yes. Leave me alone." Spot shifted to be as far away from the man as possible. He didn't like the weird fascination Daniel looked at him with, like Spot was some kind of animal that the man wanted to hunt down and eat. 

Spot shivered before he could think to stop himself. 

He couldn't bear to look at any of the people right now, and that opinion probably wouldn't change any time soon. 

Instead, Spot stared out the window of his parents' beat up old car and wondered if he'd survive opening the door and jumping out onto the highway. 

Probably not. Would that be so bad though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for kidnapping, mentions of abuse/neglect.  
> Implied predatory character.


	28. 3 perspectives? In one chapter? (Denton,David,&Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for mentions of abuse.  
> Writers block is killin me
> 
> All I want to do is watch Gravity Falls so taking time to write this was a huge sacrifice, you're welcome.

It was nearly afternoon now, and Sean was still out walking. No doubt avoiding what he expected to be a harsh scolding, Bryan figured. He should never have yelled like that. 

Sean hated the cold, so for him to wander around for two hours proved just how angry, frightened, and in general overwhelmed he must be. 

Bryan was certainly going to apologize for the snapping, but he had to be sure Sean knew drugs were not okay. 

_ How  _ he was going to accomplish both, he wasn't sure, but Bryan would have to make it work. 

Sean was certainly complicated, but everyone was sometimes. 

The poor kid was going through entirely too much right now, and he deserved to know he had someone to count on. 

Bryan clearly hadn't been that for him lately, if that morning's outburst was anything to go by. 

He'd have to do better at that. 

* * *

Spot was still gone that night, and while David couldn't speak for everyone, he himself was starting to freak out. Spot had left that morning, and by now it was well after sunset. 

Sarah and David sat at the kitchen table while Bryan paced back and forth, waiting for Jonathan's arrival. Les was asleep in bed, both at Bryan's insistence and the solemn oath that he would be notified of anything important as soon as he woke up. 

"Bryan?"

Sarah asked nervously, breaking the tension.

"Hmm?"

Bryan was obviously distracted with his worry. He shook his head, sitting down beside them. 

"Sorry, Sarah. What was that?"

Sarah gave a weak smile. "I just wanted to make you calm down," she admitted. David did his best to smile too, but he couldn't quite manage it. 

Finally Jonathan showed up, after entirely too long, in David's opinion. Wasn't this man supposed to  _ care _ about Spot's well-being? 

He sat next to them at the table, looking entirely too put together considering it was eleven PM. 

The man sighed before speaking.

"Bryan, I hate to say it, but there's a very real chance he may have run off again. It's not completely out of character for Sean."

David tried not to bristle at the way Jonathan talked about his brother. He knew Spot could be frustrating sometimes, but Jonathan wasn't being fair. Spot didn't deserve that kind of criticism.

Jonathan went on.

"The promise of stability from this adoption, and then with the added appearance of his birth family, this argument could have been just too much…" Jonathan sighed.

"What I'm saying is, he's bolted before, and I wouldn't be completely shocked if he did it again."

David felt like he might be sick. Surely Spot wouldn't just… run away? 

Sure, things hadn't been exactly  _ great _ , but it had to at least be better than running off on his own. 

But apparently Spot didn't see it that way. 

That realization stung like a slap to the face. Didn't Spot want to be part of the family?

He seemed so happy… But this was Jonathan's job, so surely he knew what he was talking about? 

It was Jonathan's job, but Spot was David's brother. He just  _ knew _ Spot wouldn't leave, not without saying goodbye. Besides, he hadn't taken any of his things with him. Something must have happened, and that was not a comforting thought at all. 

Jonathan made promises to look everywhere, and David actually believed him. The man did look genuinely concerned, so maybe David wasn't being fair either. 

"Jonathan?" David said as the man headed for the door.

"If Spot did leave on purpose, can he still stay when we find him?" 

Jonathan rubbed his eyes. 

"I don't know, David. It all depends. I'll have to talk to him first, so no promises." 

David nodded. He didn't like all the uncertainty in that answer, but it looked like it was the best one he was going to get. 

* * *

After only twelve hours in their house, Spot was already beginning to discover that, with his parents, sober did not necessarily mean nicer. The fact that they still sucked even when not completely smashed was further evidence that Deirdre and Aiden Conlon were just garbage human beings as a rule.

Spot lay awake, staring at the ceiling from a mattress on the floor. The room was cold, but the door locked, so he could pretend he was safe while absently nursing what would probably turn into a black eye by tomorrow. 

He wasn't going to call Deirdre  _ mom, _ no matter how many times she hit him over it. 

Moms don't hit their kids in the face. Or anywhere, for that matter. 

Spot supposed that meant he didn't have a mom at all, but he was fine with that. He didn't have the rest of the standard nuclear family either. 

By now  _ They _ would surely be figuring out that he wasn't coming home. 

Spot had thoroughly convinced himself that Bryan was already planning to kick him out, so he was fairly sure the man wouldn't be too upset. 

Les, on the other hand, would be upset. Spot realized with some guilt that just because he thought Spot left by choice didn't mean the little boy's heart wouldn't be absolutely destroyed. 

Sarah and David… Spot didn't want to think about how they would feel, mainly because he didn't really know. 

They'd probably be upset, but really, how much could they possibly care? Spot didn't think they'd be upset for too long. David said they'd had other foster kids living with them before, and those all left, so they were used to it. 

Spot was just another to add to the list. 

Spot sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. He felt sick, everything hurt, and he didn't want to be here. 

He could run away, but where would he go?

Spot didn't have anywhere to run to, not anymore. 


	29. Pretend this title is relevant (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of abuse.

Spot woke up entirely too early to the sound of Aiden, Deirdre, and Daniel's very loud group of friends, who were of course still in the house. Their party had gone all night apparently, and it was frankly a miracle he'd gotten any sleep at all. 

For one brief moment, he considered leaving the safety of his new room, but that idea was immediately discarded. Spot had no interest in adding more to the collection of scars on his chest and arms, thank you very much, and a party thrown by his "parents" was a great way to get hurt. Or at least, if his memories from ten years ago had any value to them it was. 

Besides, even sitting up hurt, as Spot found out the second he tried to. He felt like he was being stabbed from the inside with every movement. Just a few days without all those medications and already Spot felt like hell. Maybe Bryan and the doctor were right. No, don't think about Bryan. Bryan didn't want him anymore. Spot had to remember that, or he'd miss home- no, Bryan's house, it wasn't his home, not anymore. If Spot thought of it as home, he'd miss it too much. 

But this certainly wasn't home. Spot was cold. He hated being cold. It was also kind of a problem that he only had the one set of clothes. Would they notice if he took some of Aiden's? They'd be too big, but it would be better than nothing. And Spot wasn't about to touch  _ anything _ of Daniel's. The man made his skin crawl like the horrible little centipede that had crawled all over the ceiling last night. 

Spot had watched the stupid little thing for entirely too long before managing to fall asleep in spite of all the noise right outside his door.

He shivered, and told himself that it was from the cold, not being scared at the crash from the main area of the house. 

Spot looked out the window and saw that the sun still wasn't up, so maybe it was still kind of nighttime. He didn't have a clock, and Aiden had taken his phone as soon as they got to the house three days ago. 

Three days in this house, and Spot was already starting to "settle in." He had a routine. Wake up as early as possible, get something from the kitchen, then hide in the bedroom with the door locked for the rest of the day. 

Deirdre only forced him to come out once for dinner and then her demented idea of Family Fun Time after, meaning "Spot Sits On The Disgusting, Unidentifiable Animal Hair Covered Couch While 3 Adults Touch Him Way Too Much and Watch Some Sporting Event on TV".

Aiden was always patting him on the shoulder just a touch too hard, Deirdre was always fucking  _ hugging  _ him, and not in a good way, and Daniel seemed to use absolutely anything as an excuse to put his hands on Spot. 

Spot did not like Daniel. 

But maybe they were trying. Maybe Deirdre only forced him to come out once a day because she was being nice, not because she forgot he existed. Maybe. 

The centipede from last night made it's way across the filthy carpet, stopping closer to Spot than he would have liked. 

Spot watched as it scuttled up the wall and halted on the windowsill. 

"What?" He asked, feeling very stupid to be talking to a bug, but a bug was preferable to all the humans in the house right now.

"You want me to let you out? Hate to break it to you, little guy, but it's still December. You're better off in here, even if it kinda sucks. You won't survive out there alone."

Spot stretched and rolled off the mattress. His stomach hurt a tiny bit less after the stretching, enough that maybe he'd manage to make himself eat something. 

Everything in this house was either frozen, canned, or unidentifiable sludge. 

Out of the three, canned was the least likely to make Spot vomit, and thus the least likely to make Aiden throw him against the wall screaming about how he shouldn't be vomiting because he wasn't sick.

Spot opened one of his hoarded cans of fruit. It wasn't bad, really. He managed to go through maybe one can a day, which probably wasn't enough food, but his stomach complained that that little bit was too much. There was no Bryan or Sarah or Crutchie to bug Spot about it, so he'd listen to his stomach on this one. 

Another crash from outside made him jump, spilling a tiny bit of the syrupy liquid from the can onto the carpet.

"Fuck," Spot muttered, grabbing one of the unidentifiable cloth objects from a pile in the corner. 

Maybe they used to be shirts. Well, now they were official-juice-cleaning-up rags.

Not that anybody would notice. They never came in, and the carpet was about the same shade of grey as an old woman who didn't care about dental hygiene and never ate anything but mushrooms' creaky old teeth. 

Probably used to be white, but now doesn't even deserve to be called a color. 

But he already had too many bugs. No need to add ants to the list.

"Patrick!" Deirdre sang drunkenly through the door. Spot stiffened. 

"Come out and meet Mama's friends, darling!"

_ No way. _

Spot stayed silent. Maybe she'd think he was still asleep and go away.

"Come on, baby, come out." Her tone shifted to a nauseatingly playful warning. "Don't make me get Daddy to come in there and spank you!" She laughed as if this was some incredibly clever joke. 

Spot gritted his teeth. He hated her so much, but shifted to his feet anyway. Deirdre wasn't going to give up, so he'd better do what she wanted. 

Make an appearance, then leave as soon as possible. 

She did sound happy drunk, at least for now. 

Spot jerked open the door, running a hand through his hair to make it look something resembling presentable. Why he cared, Spot had no idea. 

Deirdre, who apparently had been leaning cleaning the door, nearly fell on top of him as soon as he opened it. 

"Beat me yourself, lady," he snapped, testing the waters just a bit. 

She laughed, patting the side of his face and leaning on the wall. 

"Baby, nobody's gonna beat my son, because I love you," She slurred. 

Sure. She totally loved him. 

"Now come on! Meet my friends!" 

Deirdre stumbled off like an intoxicated baby deer, and Spot had no other option but to follow her drunken prancing and off-key singing. 

It was like some fucked up fairytale, and Spot wasn't sure what part he was playing yet. 


	30. Things are bad and sad and just not fun. (David&Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.  
> Tw, alcohol use and mentions of abuse.

Spot had been missing for three days, and they still had no idea where he'd gone. 

Had he been spending the night at a friend's place, that would have been one thing, with or without permission. This wasn't just Spot being emotional. Clearly he didn't intend to come back anytime soon.

Or worse, maybe he  _ couldn't  _ come back. 

David couldn't bear to think Spot might be stuck somewhere, hurt and scared and alone. 

He had his phone, didn't he? David was sure he would have brought it. Why didn't he call, or text, or something, anything to let them know he was alive?

David fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket as he lay in bed. He didn't want to be alone right now. 

He got out of bed and headed downstairs, searching for human company. 

Bryan sat on the couch, head in his hands. 

"Bryan?" David squeaked, touching his arm tentatively. 

The man looked up, eyes red. 

"David. What do you need, buddy?" He looked so very tired.

"What's wrong?" David asked, sitting down next to his father. 

Bryan sighed heavily. 

"I just got off the phone with Jonathan. Security cameras a couple miles away saw him." Bryan looked like he might be sick. 

"His parents have him. They forced him into their car and drove off."

"Fuck," David swore, surprising himself. He never talked like that. 

Bryan just nodded slowly. "They're working to find him…" he trailed off. 

_ But what until then? _

Spot was scared of his parents, and it sounded like he had good reason to be. What if they hurt him? He didn't have any of his medication, either, David realized. That wouldn't be good. Would his parents make sure he ate, like Sarah and Bryan did? David doubted it. 

Spot was just barely starting to look a healthy size, and then  _ this _ . 

Bryan stood up, looking years older than normal. "I have some calls I need to make. Don't be afraid to interrupt if you need anything, okay?"

David nodded, Bryan gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, and then he was left to his thoughts. 

He should call Racetrack, David thought suddenly. That wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to, but Race deserved to know. 

* * *

Spot did not like his parents' friends. They were loud and all of them were either drunk or high. This time it seemed to be mostly weed, which Spot was okay with. Weed calmed people down. Made them  _ less _ dangerous, really. 

The alcohol was a completely different story. 

Spot hugged his knees and sat silently as far away from everyone as he could get. 

Deirdre was sitting half in Aiden's lap, drunkenly telling the story of their "rescuing" Spot. 

"I found him, they took my baby away, but I found him," she slurred, nearly falling off the couch with her emotional gesturing. 

Aiden smiled. The man had been both smoking and drinking, which, as far as Spot knew, could be a dangerous combination. 

"Saw his picture inna newspaper, didntcha, Deedee? Been ten years since we saw our little Patrick but my Deedee still recognized our boy. He went an' joined hisself a band!"

So that was how they found him. 

He didn't even know his picture had ended up in the paper, but apparently it happened. 

Daniel flopped down in the chair closest to Spot and drank half his can of beer all at once.

"Hey, kid, here, take some." He shoved a separate can in Spot's face. 

He shook his head. 

"Ah, come on, kid. I was younger than you when I started."

Yes, because comparing Spot to  _ him _ was great encouragement. 

"I don't want it." Spot pushed Daniel away, looking for an escape as the man seemed to get more irritated. 

There was one person, besides Spot, of course, who wasn't completely off their nuts smashed. An enormous man with close cropped dark hair had been sipping at a can of cheap beer for awhile, and seemed fairly lucid. 

Spot shifted carefully to be nearer to this man and farther from Daniel. The giant seemed much calmer than anyone else, but Spot wasn't stupid enough to let his guard down. Still, sober was usually more predictable. Usually. 

The man gave Spot a friendly smile that he didn't trust. There was no reason for this guy to be nice to him. 

"Hey. I'm Ron. Friend of a friend of your parents. Nice to meet you."

Spot nodded, hoping the man wouldn't be offended by his lack of conversation. 

"You like these parties they throw?" Ron continued to press Spot for conversation. 

He shrugged. "Makes it kinda hard to sleep."

Ron laughed, a deep, rich sound that was so very different from the shrieking everyone else always seemed to be doing.

"I guess it would. We're kind of a rowdy bunch." He smiled, tossing his can into a trash pile on the floor and picking another out of the cooler they always seemed to have in the living room. 

The man clapped one large, warm hand on Spot's shoulder, and he was reminded strangely of Bryan. All of a sudden, Spot felt tears prick his eyes. He blinked them away. Now was not the time. 

They could never see him cry.  _ Never. _

Would Bryan really turn Spot away if he went back? It wasn't worth the risk. He couldn't handle the rejection if they didn't want him anymore. 

Spot couldn't really handle much more of this today either, he realized, jumping away as someone threw a bottle against the wall. Everyone laughed at the crash. 

Ron chuckled at Spot's jumpiness, and he tried not to get too irritated. The man just didn't know. Spot was, so far at least, left alone when strangers were there. 

Maybe Deirdre and Aiden's friends had morals or something and wouldn't like it if they hit him. Probably not, Spot thought as a woman slapped the lady she'd seemed to be best friends with just a moment before. 

These people didn't really strike him as good, upstanding people who had problems with parents beating on their kids.

Ron seemed better than the rest, but even he laughed when Spot got scared. 

Because he  _ was _ scared, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He was scared, and there wasn't anything he could do to make it any better. 

Finally, the still drinking adults turned the TV on to something loud and uninteresting, and Spot was able to slip back into his room unnoticed.

The centipede he'd been watching earlier was still on the windowsill, still wanting to get out. Spot poked at the little guy, and then realized it was dead. 

Spot curled up on his mattress, covered himself up to his head with the thin blanket, and let himself cry. 


	31. Pictures (David&Denton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for basically everything I've ever had a tw for in this fic.   
> Mentions of abuse, neglect, hospitalization, etc. 
> 
> Just like, a lot of angst, because currently I'm very sad and eating cheese puffs to deal with my emotions.

David didn't particularly care for phone conversations under the best of circumstances, but a phone call with an extremely upset Racetrack Higgins was in a stress league all of its own. 

"What do you  _ mean  _ you don't know?" He shrieked. David pulled the phone away from his ear. 

"I mean I don't know, Race. I'm sorry."

David was just so tired. He couldn't handle Racetrack on top of everything else, but his friend deserved more than a flippant "hey, your boyfriend's been kidnapped" kind of text. 

Racetrack was absolutely losing his mind, and David didn't have the energy to really listen. Racetrack was acting like David wasn't out of his mind worried too. 

His  _ brother _ was gone. Taken. Taken by people he was so terrified of, and they couldn't get him back. 

And here David was comforting Racetrack, trying to comfort Bryan. He couldn't do it anymore. Just three days was already too much. 

David set the phone down on his bed and let the tears come. 

"David? David?" Racetrack's tinny voice called out from the phone. David ignored it. 

"Are you okay?"

No, Racetrack, David was  _ not _ okay. Everything was awful. Racetrack knew that. How was David supposed to be okay?

"David, I'm sorry."

He stared at the phone, trying to decide whether or not to pick it back up. 

He could hear Racetrack breathing heavily, like he was trying not to cry. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just so scared for him." 

David picked the phone back up. 

"I'm scared too, Racetrack. I promise, as soon as we know anything more, I'll tell you." 

"Thanks." Racetrack's voice was soft, and more than a little strained. 

"I have to go. My mom's losing her mind over something stupid. But David, if there's anything I can do, anything at all…"

"Thanks, Racer. It means a lot." David tried to sound hopeful, but in truth, he couldn't remember ever being so afraid.    
  


* * *

Bryan should be working, but instead found himself standing in Sean's room. He was almost afraid to touch anything, afraid to disturb any remaining traces of the boy who should be here, petting a cat or staring at his phone in typical teen fashion. 

Sean was a strangely neat boy, partly due to him not having many possessions, and partly, Bryan assumed, because he was only just allowing himself to get settled. Only just starting to believe that he was here for good.

Bryan gripped the binder with all of Sean's information, copied, printed, and stuck in page protectors by the ever-organized Jonathan. Photos and medical records and everything else. Fourteen years filled with far too much suffering. 

The last time Bryan saw the boy, he'd yelled. He told him to go for a walk, to calm down, to not feel all the big, terrifying emotions that it was only natural for a child in Sean's situation to feel. 

And Sean did it. Sean did as he was told, and now he was gone. He'd been taken, who knew where, by the first people to hurt him. The people he should have been able to trust completely and totally. 

Sean should have been able to trust Bryan, too. He couldn't keep his child safe. Because Sean was a child, no matter how grown up he wanted to act. 

How could Bryan have been so insensitive, so cruel? He had frightened the most vulnerable member of his family, the one who was only just learning to be loved. 

Bryan sat on the bed, Sean's file held on his lap. The bedspread was still a bit rumpled from the last time the boy had slept in it. Bryan ran one hand along the cheerful yellow blanket, covered in cat hair. 

How would Sean hide from the world without it? Where would he curl up if not in the chair downstairs? Who would hold him tight when he woke up, frightened and in need of comfort? Would he eat anything without Bryan there to tell him he had to? Would his parents have food that wouldn't make him sick? 

Sean didn't even have the pills he fussed about taking until Bryan forced him to. They were still there, in a neat little line of orange prescription bottles on the dresser, a small army of soldiers guarding the stuffed chicken Racetrack had brought Sean in the hospital. 

Sean was just a kid. A kid who went through horrors much too big for any child, yet he came out alive. He was a fighter, that much Bryan knew. 

He knew from Jonathan, and then from experience, just how much Sean had survived. 

Bryan flipped open the binder, past copies of legal documents and records that were too complicated to think through right now, to the pictures that broke his heart every time he saw them. 

Pictures from court earliest court case, of a bruised, emaciated little boy with hollow eyes and scars spotting his thin, fragile body.

And then pictures of a Les-sized boy, not quite looking at the camera. Big, stormy blue eyes that held none of the bright hope Les and all his friends poured out in excess like fireworks or fountains. 

Pictures that showed Jonathan's soft side, since they didn't really need to be included in the file. Pictures of a boy, almost smiling with what must have been the good families. Pictures to say "look, look at this child. Look what he could be, if only you give him a chance." The book held very few of these precious images. 

There were far more pictures of a larger, yet still painfully small boy, the one who had come to live with them. Welts up and down his skinny back, his sides shadowed by bruises. There still remained all the little scars from before, scars that gave him a name, a name that Sean claimed for his own, never ever letting anyone use it as an insult. 

A guarded face that covered the hopelessness in his eyes with a scowl, telling the world "back off", because how else was he meant to protect himself?

Sean should never have needed to protect himself. He should have had parents to do that from the very beginning. 

Those page protectors were coming in handy. Bryan didn't bother to wipe the tears away. 

He had failed Sean so completely. Bryan would never forgive himself if something happened. 

He might never forgive himself anyway. 


	32. Cold (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for Abuse and drug/alcohol use.

Spot paced back and forth in the little bathroom where they kept the washing machine and dryer. Surprisingly, the clunky old appliance still worked. 

He wanted to put his own clothes back on, clothes that fit. Aiden's were entirely too big, and wearing them made Spot feel tiny, like a little kid wearing daddy's clothes for fun. He hated it. Hated feeling small, vulnerable,  _ weak _ . 

And he was cold in just a t-shirt and shorts.

Why did this stupid machine have to take so long? Spot could hear Deirdre, Aiden, and Daniel moving around in the kitchen, probably either drinking or doing something illegal. 

If Spot didn't get back into his room and lock the door soon, he might not be able to for a while. He'd be stuck in the main area of the house with a trio of drunk or high people, all about twice his size. 

Aiden was scary when he got drunk. 

Bryan never drank, and he was never scary. Bryan was always  _ right.  _ He was warm hands and a gentle voice, someone Spot could trust, no matter what. Even at his worst, most angry, Bryan was infinitely better than Aiden or Deirdre at their best.

But Bryan didn't want him anymore, and it was as simple as that. He was going to make Spot leave anyway. It was better this way. Easier. 

_ But what if he didn't want to send you away? _ The nagging voice asked.  _ Isn't it worth the risk? Just to see? _

Spot shook the stupid voice away from his head. It was no use thinking like that. He couldn't leave even if he was sure they'd take him back. Deirdre, Aiden and Daniel would never let him. 

"Aww. Look at you in those clothes!" Spot's thoughts were interrupted by Deirdre and Aiden's sudden appearance in the doorway. 

“You look just like your father.”

Dierdre was beaming, hanging off of Aiden's arm in the perfect, "Happy Little Family" picture that she loved so much. Or maybe she just couldn't stand up on her own. 

Deirdre threw one arm around Spot's shoulders in a constricting hug. Even her warmth felt cold. Distant, yet at the same time, smotheringly close. 

Spot hated her. He hated her and he hated her smile and he hated his “father”.

Spot’s mother was a slimy, horrible eel of a person, and his father looked like a weasel and he smelled like pot. 

_ No, _ Spot thought to himself. His father did not look like a weasel. His father was a dorky journalist who wore stupid polos that were always covered in cat hair. Bryan was his father, and nobody could change that, blood relations or not. 

The jackass who’d impregnated the womb in which Spot grew as a fetus looked like a weasel. He was nothing to Spot, and never would be.

Spot wanted Bryan, his  _ real  _ dad. He wanted to go home. Who cared if they turned him away? Spot couldn't stay here. He hated his parents. They didn't love him, not really. 

"I don't look like anyone. I look like me. Fuck you. All of you." He shoved her hand away harder than intended, and it hit the wall. Deirdre yelped, and Spot knew immediately from the look on her husband's face that he had seriously fucked up this time.

Before he could think to react, Aiden grabbed Spot painfully by the hair. Everything in him said to scream, to pull away and run, but Spot forced himself not to. He gasped in pain when the man brought a fist into his ribcage, knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

"Don't you  _ ever  _ talk to my wife like that." Aiden punctuated each word with a blow to Spot's side, until he could barely stay standing from the pain.

"Mama," Spot squeaked out, earning a blow to the side of his head. 

"You hear me, boy?"

Spot whimpered, but nodded. Deirdre said she loved him, that she wouldn't let anybody beat him. Obviously that was a lie, because she did nothing. 

"Good," Aiden snapped, sending Spot stumbling with an open-handed slap to his rear. Spot gritted his teeth to keep from crying. They would never see him cry. Never. No matter how much they hurt or embarrassed or scared him, Spot would cling to the one thing in his control. 

He had to get away. Get somewhere else, anywhere else. But he couldn't move, not with Aiden still holding him. 

The room spun with a painful nausea, and the only thing that kept Spot on his feet was Aiden's fist in his hair, dragging him to the garage and dumping him in a heap on the cold concrete. 

"You can stay here until you learn some respect, Patrick." The door slammed, and Spot was alone. 

Spot  _ hated _ the name Patrick. It wasn't even his  _ name _ , so why did they insist on calling him that? Some grandparent way back whenever had the name Sean, so Spot apparently couldn't use it. Well, grandpa Sean hadn't wanted Spot when his parents were arrested, and now he was dead, so why should Spot give a fuck about the man's name?

And yet, he was kind of happy they didn't call him Sean. Bryan called him Sean. Anything that reminded him of Bryan had become almost...sacred. 

Spot shivered. He was terrified. He had only just found a family, a real family, and now he had no idea if he'd ever see them again. Would they want him back? They didn't seem to be looking for him particularly hard.

He sat up, wincing at the pain in his bruised side and the waves of nausea that went through his head and stomach. 

Spot sank back down on the cold floor. He hated the cold. 

But now he was alone. Nobody would see, he could just…

Spot let the tears come in hot streams down his face. Everything hurt. He was so tired. Why didn't anyone come find him?

David was smart, Sarah was determined, and as far as Spot was concerned, Bryan might as well be his dad. So why didn't they come for him? 

Spot curled up into a little ball on the cold floor, and he cried. Even the crying hurt. Spot hugged himself, trying desperately to still the trembling in his body. 

He didn't have to worry about anyone coming to check on him and seeing how pathetic he looked. None of them cared anyway. 


	33. Daniel (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of abuse, as well as sexual advances from an adult towards a minor.

Spot shivered. He wasn't sure how long they'd kept him locked in the garage, but he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. Unfortunately, that same numbness did not extend to each of his painfully bruised, hopefully not broken ribs. 

He'd crammed himself into the corner closest to the heating system, but that little warmth didn't help much. 

And his legs hurt. Stupid chronic illness. 

"You out here, Patrick?" Spot jumped at Daniel's voice, cringing farther into his corner. 

_ No, no. Please. No more.  _

He couldn't take any more. Not now. 

Spot couldn't pretend to be okay when it was so obvious he'd been crying. They couldn't see he'd cried. That was the only pride he had left to cling to. 

"Come on out, kid. Can't really see ya back there under the workbench."

Fuck. It wasn't dark enough to really hide even a skinny twig boy, apparently. 

He cautiously shifted out. No use hiding if he was already found. 

Daniel, the human embodiment of the sound a dog makes when it vomits, came closer to get a better look at Spot's patheticness. 

"Damn, kid. He really got you good." 

The man sounded impressed at Aiden's form of "discipline", which did not make Spot feel particularly inclined to trust him, even if he hadn't already known Daniel was scum. 

"Here, let me take a look. Make sure nothing's broken." 

Daniel reached for Spot, probing at the bruise on his eye where it hit the concrete. 

Spot didn't trust Daniel, not at all. But he was just so tired, so _done_. He didn't have the energy to shove the man away. He couldn't fight it right now. 

Daniel started feeling along his side, fingers tracing his ribs lightly. If it were anybody else, Spot would have wanted to lean in to the gentle hand, to get closer to the first person in days to touch him and not bring pain.

He had become so used to gentle touch in the past few months. So used to having someone warm and kind and just  _ there.  _

They'd made him weak. Spot wanted someone, anyone, to just hold him. 

But with Daniel, it felt wrong. So wrong. 

Spot squeezed his eyes shut and pretended he couldn't feel Daniel's hand linger just a moment too long on his hip. 

Spot breathed in sharply as the man pressed on his stomach. 

"Doesn't feel broken. Lemme see." Daniel tugged at Spot's, or really, Aiden's t-shirt, trying to get it off Spot's skinny body.

"I'm fine," Spot mumbled, crossing his arms in what he knew was a childish way, but it worked. Daniel stopped trying, leaning back on his heels to stare at Spot some more. Did the guy ever blink? He was like a lizard. 

"You know, you got a nice face, kid."

_ Nice face. That's not at all creepy or weird. _

Spot didn't say anything. Daniel reached up to his face, brushing aside a stray piece of hair with a tenderness that made Spot shudder. He turned away, not wanting to look the man in the eyes. 

"Hey." 

Daniel's voice held a vicious hunger that Spot didn't like one bit. He put a calloused hand under Spot's chin and tilted his head up. 

Spot tried to avoid Daniel's eyes. They were such a pale grey, it seemed as if all the color and life had been sucked out. Harsh and cold, they stared at Spot as if he were some kind of specimen in a lab to be probed and analyzed.

Spot glared at him with all the anger he could muster, willing his hands to quit shaking. 

The man laughed, tilting Spot's face from side to side. 

"Feisty little thing, aren't you?"

He licked his upper lip before tugging at Spot's hair gently. Spot winced before he could stop himself. 

His scalp still hurt from Aiden jerking him around, and besides, Spot didn't want Daniel touching him at all, especially not in such a…a  _ flirty _ way. 

Spot struggled to his feet, smacking away Daniel's outstretched hand. He didn't need anyone's help, least of all  _ Daniel's _ . __

The man frowned at his rejection, and Spot felt a tight panic rise in his chest. He found himself praying to whoever might be out there, anyone who might hear the silent plea of some kid in a dumpy old house, begging desperately not to be beaten again today. 

_ Please, please don't. Not again. I can't take it again.  _

He stared at Daniel's hands, resting at his sides, at least for now. 

Nothing happened. Spot relaxed a tiny but when he realized Daniel wasn't going to do anything, or at least, he wouldn't do anything right now. 

He waited for the man to leave, but instead, Daniel put an arm around his shoulders amicably. Spot stiffened; he couldn't help it. Daniel just laughed, shaking Spot around like they were old friends and Spot's entire body wasn't covered in bruises. 

But at least inside the house it was a bit warmer. Spot just had to ignore the way Daniel's hand went just a touch too low on his back, and he'd be fine. 

Just fine. 

* * *

Something woke Spot up that night. Not a sound or anything, but some feeling of  _ wrongness _ that was absolutely overwhelming. 

Daniel was in the doorway, just watching him. He'd been watching him  _ sleep _ .

The man was breathing heavily. Spot hoped he wasn't doing what he knew he must be doing. 

Why? Why was everything so terrible? Spot should have gone home when he could. 

Daniel let out a tiny moan, and Spot squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like he might shiver away into nothingness. 

He hated Daniel, hated him so much, and he hated Dierdre and he hated Aiden. They were not his parents and they never would be. 

Parents would stop Daniel from doing… _ that _ . 

Bryan wouldn't let Daniel act like this around him. Bryan cared, Bryan  _ loved _ him. 

But the tiny voice in Spot's head wondered,  _ why hasn't he come and found you, then? _


	34. Fighting Back (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for physical and brief sexual assault.

Spot decided something that night. That horrible, terrifying, painful night. 

He was  _ not _ going to stand around and let somebody else beat on him, or act like... _ that _ .

Never again. Spot wasn't four anymore. He was closer to being an adult than a four year old, so he'd best start showing some initiative about his safety, and start looking for a chance to  _ do _ something. 

Spot's chance to act came later that week. 

Deirdre insisted he spend time out of his room with her, but she was actually sober this time, so Spot tolerated it. 

He even pretended to listen to her "Cooking Class" which, compared to Racetrack's grandma, was severely lacking. 

Really, Spot was more interested in the fact that she was using his phone to look up a recipe for a salad, because apparently she didn't know how to do that herself. 

If he could find a chance to grab the phone, he could call for help. Then he'd know for sure. 

If somebody came, they wanted him. If not, well, then he'd better get used to Deirdre's "cooking".

"Everybody loves my homemade cheese pasta," Deirdre declared. Her pasta sauce came from a can, meaning it absolutely was not homemade. Spot wasn't about to tell a kind of nutty woman holding a kitchen knife that adding butter was not always an improvement, and Spot certainly did not love Deirdre's "Special Sauce."

Even sober, the woman wasn't exactly put together, and finally, Deirdre made one mistake. She left Spot's phone out on the counter, and then left the room to "go get something to drink." 

_ Wonderful. She was sober for a whole hour new record.  _

Despite his efforts not to think about it, Spot stared at the phone for a moment, weighing the risk, to take it or not. 

If they caught him… Spot ran a hand down his ribs, which still hurt from the storm of punches. He didn't want to go through that again, but maybe this would be his only chance to get away. 

Daniel had been getting worse, more touchy over the past few days and Spot worried it might be only a matter of time before the man actually did something. 

That realization was enough for the decision to be made. Spot didn't want to stay here forever, and they certainly weren't going to just let him leave. He'd have to do it himself.

He grabbed his phone from the counter and made his way, as casually as possible, past Aiden and Daniel on the couch and into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

Hurriedly, Spot opened up Instagram and messaged the first name he saw, which happened to be Racetrack's. Spot almost hesitated just looking at the name. He missed Racetrack more than he would have ever thought possible. 

No. Thinking like that wasn't helpful. Spot needed to tell them where he was and then hide the phone. He could be sad and sappy later, probably after Aiden beat the shit out of him again. 

Thinking like that was also not helpful, and also made his hands shake and almost drop the phone. Not helpful in the slightest. 

He pointed the phone out the tiny bathroom window, snapped a picture of the street sign in the corner, and sent it. 

Then someone, probably fucking  _ Daniel,  _ was slamming on the door. 

“Hey, kid! Get back out here!”

Yep. It was fucking Daniel. 

Well, hopefully Racetrack would be able to figure it out. 

Spot quickly jammed the phone in between the plastic liner of the trash can and the plastic container itself. His heart pounded so hard, he wondered how Daniel couldn't hear it from outside.

“DeeDee, he’s got his phone in there!”

Spot turned on the faucet as a cover up to pretend he'd actually needed to use the bathroom, then opened the door with as much of a scowl as he could manage. 

“Why the fuck are you having a convention outside of the fucking bathroom?”

“Give it here,” his “mother” demanded, thankfully ignoring the language Spot chose to use. 

“Give  _ what  _ here?” 

“You know what,” snapped Daniel. 

“No, I fucking don’t.”

Aiden reached out like he was going to slap him, and Spot ducked away. Nothing happened. Yet. 

“Your phone, brat. We know you took it,” Aiden snapped, shoving his stomach, which was still bruised from the whole garage incident four days ago. 

Spot didn't cry out, but he came pretty close on that one. 

“No, I didn’t. I don’t even know where the fuck you put it, remember?”

Daniel grabbed Spot roughly by the hair, feeling through his pockets and shaking his jacket out, apparently thinking Spot was stupid enough to steal back his phone and then just keep it on his person. 

Spot tolerated the ridiculous search, even though some of it kind of hurt, but Daniel crossed a line when he shoved one hand down the front of Spot’s pants.

Why the  _ fuck _ would he put his phone there? Daniel knew damn well that was stupid, he was just using this as an excuse to prove what a piece of trash he was. 

Kicking him was really more of a reflex than anything, but Spot still took satisfaction from the grunting sound the man made. 

Spot could let a lot of things slide, but he'd  _ never _ allow that. Never. 

"I dont. Fucking. Have. It." Spot growled, pulling away as much as possible in the tight hallway. It wasn't much, but any distance between himself and them was better than none. 

He wasn't the tiny kid they knew from before. He could fight back now. 

Not particularly well, if the ease with which Aiden slammed him against the wall was anything to go by. But at least he could fight. Spot tried to get to his feet, but a sharp kick to his side ended that plan before it even began. 

He wasn't going to just sit there and take it, that was for sure. 

Aiden's outstretched hand was greeted by Spot's teeth. He bit down hard, not letting go even after he tasted blood. 

Aiden yelled incoherently, slamming the base of his free hand into the side of Spot's head. 

That fucking  _ hurt.  _

The hallway with its chipping orange paint and dim lights began to spin like a nauseating carnival ride with every blow. Someone was shrieking, probably Deirdre. 

"Stop! Stop! You idiots! Let go of him, Patrick!" 

Spot would stop biting when Aiden stopped hitting him, and that didn't seem likely to end anytime soon.

But finally, when Spot felt his vision start to fade in and out, he had to let go, spitting blood out onto the carpet as soon as Aiden jerked his injured hand away. 

He faced the three terrible clowns of this stupid fucking carnival, giving as fierce a glare as a boy who could hardly stand could be capable of giving. 

There was absolutely no way this would end well for him, but at least he wouldn't take it lying down. Not anymore. 


	35. Too Tired To Title. [4T] (Race,David&Jack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably garbage due to I'm exhausted from a horrible day at work, but I dont care. I needed to relax so I wrote. 
> 
> I wanted to use more of like Crutchie and bumlets and everybody who I havent been including enough so tadaaaaa.   
> Gonna go crash for 7 hours before getting up to go back to work!

Racetrack stared at his phone. 

**Message from : Sp♡t!!!!!!!!**

For a very painful moment, he couldn't get his fingers to work and open the stupid thing. He shook himself out of the stunned stillness and looked at the message.

He frowned, confused. It was a picture of the road, some trees, and a sign. 

Wait.

A sign. A street sign. With a street name. The name of the street Spot must be on right now. 

Mariner's Drive. 

Racetrack didn't bother to stifle his scream of joy. 

Spot! He knew where he was! Or at least, sort of where he was. Not exact, but it was  _ something.  _

David. He had to call David.

Racetrack's fingers shook as he called.

"Hello, this is David."

Racetrack would have normally laughed at David for sounding like an answering machine, but he was entirely too excited. Besides, he could hear Jack in the background teasing David for him.

"David, Spot texted me, he sent me a picture of a street sign, David we have to go get him, please, please come get me, now."

"What!" David shrieked. "Where is he? Jack, get in the car, we gotta go, now!"

Racetrack could hear a scramble to get ready in the background, and he bounced impatiently on his heels. 

"I can be there in ten minutes. Be ready." 

Click. 

* * *

Normally David loved “Movie Night” at Jack’s house, even if it was actually three PM, and not night. 

But normally, he also didn’t have a missing sibling, and Movie Night wasn’t an attempt to distract him. David, of course, Mush, Blink, Crutchie, Bumlets, and obviously Jack, since it was his house, all piled on or near the couch to watch Lord of the Rings, since it was David's favorite. 

It was a wonderful dogpile of friends, a necessary tradition if anyone was going through a rough patch in life, which obviously "kidnapped brother" counted as. 

David tried to pay attention, but in all honesty, he was kind of relieved when his phone rang, interrupting the scene where Frodo doesn’t bravely resist the Nazgul like he’s  _ supposed to  _ and does in the book, and Arwen has to save him even though she  _ doesn’t actually,  _ and- David should answer his phone. 

"Hello, this is David." 

Jack snorted a laugh, poking David in the side. “You should go into telemarketing, robot-boy.” 

Crutchie whacked Jack across the face with a pillow. “It’s called being  _ normal.  _ Not everybody feels the need to answer the phone like a freaking tele-sexworker.”

Normally David would have found their conversation funny, but Racetrack’s desperate word-vomit was enough to take all the humor out of the situation. 

"David, Spot texted me, he sent me a picture of a street sign, David we have to go get him, please, please come get me, now."   


"What!" David shrieked, making everyone in the room jump. "Where is he? Jack, get in the car, we gotta go, now!"

Jack, the absolute greatest boyfriend ever, grabbed his shoes without question, throwing Bumlets' jacket at his head as he went.

"I can be there in ten minutes,” David promised. “Be ready." 

He hung up on Racetrack and immediately called Bryan, trying to form coherent sentences that the man would understand. Finally he managed to spit out the gist of it. 

"Bryan, Race called, he knows where Spot is." 

“What?” The emotion in Bryan’s voice was unmistakable. 

“David, where? Where is he?”

“Don’t know yet, we’re going to go to Race’s now, and then we’ll go.”

“No! David, do not do that!” Bryan half yelled, making David jump. 

"We have to go get him! What if something happens?" 

Why did Bryan want to just sit idly when they could go get Spot and bring him home right now? David couldn’t comprehend that at all. This could be their only chance. Spot hadn’t contacted them before; what if this was a sign things were really bad? 

He must be desperate, to be texting Race now, after almost two weeks of nothing.

“David, I’m calling the police. Get him to send me that picture. Don’t go anywhere, you hear me? Stay at Jack’s house.” 

Bryan was using that “No Nonsense” tone that he almost never used, the one David normally wouldn’t even  _ think _ of disobeying. 

"The police might take too long. Bryan, I'm going, sorry." He really was sorry. David did his best to never go against what Bryan asked, but this time, Bryan was wrong, he was sure of it. 

"David, no! David, are you listening to me? David Benjamin do not leave that house, so help me-"

David hung up and turned his phone off so Bryan couldn’t call back. 

"He's fine with it," David assured his very clearly concerned friends as he tugged on his shoes and rushed them out the door. 

"Davey, you cannot get us to Racer's house in ten minutes," Jack insisted, handing David the coat that he’d forgotten to grab on the way out. 

"I can if I speed." Racetrack’s house wasn’t  _ that  _ far away. 

"You  _ never _ speed," Mush said incredulously, climbing into the back next to Blink.

"That's my brother," David said firmly as he started the car. 

"I'll make the car fucking  _ fly _ if I have to."

* * *

Jack really was beginning to worry for David's sanity. Of course, he was also worried about Spot, who was probably in much more danger than David was right now. But David was Jack's boyfriend and therefore his responsibility, and David clearly wasn't gonna worry about himself. 

Understandable given the circumstances, but still not good. 

"Okay, so how are we gonna find him?" David showed his leadership abilities as the group gathered around Racetrack's kitchen table to plan. Jack was falling in love all over again, and at a very unhelpful time. 

"We have a street name, but that's it," Jack agreed. This rescue mission was probably a bad idea, but it wasn't like they could just  _ sit there _ and not even try. 

“His sweatshirt,” Bumlets suggested. “We get them to open the door and we see if it’s there.”

“And what if he’s  _ wearing  _ it?” Crutchie pointed out, rather reasonably.

Racetrack frowned, then perked up, nearly knocking his chair over to reach behind him. 

“I’ll blast my saxophone. He’ll hear it.” Race sounded absolutely certain of Spot's hearing powers, and everyone else for some reason nodded their agreement.

“And how are we going to explain why we’re walking around knocking on doors with a  _ saxophone?”  _ Jack really wondered when exactly he became the smart one of the friend group. 

It was Mush’s turn to have an idea then. He reached into his bag, pulled out a clipboard, and declared, 

“We’re fundraising.”


	36. PLEASE READ THE TWS!!!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW (CONTAINS SPOILERS) 
> 
> FOR REFERENCED ABUSE AND ALCOHOL/DRUGS, VIOLENCE, AND ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT.  
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE CAREFUL  
> I'm putting a summary of what happened in the end notes, so that if any of this is a trigger for you, you can read that to know what is going on. 
> 
> PLEASE STAY SAFE!!!!! ILY all, and thanks so much for reading!!

Mush was a concerningly good liar. David wondered what else he’d been keeping secret, considering he sounded exactly the same as he normally did. 

The real downside to this plan was the fact that they now had to talk to people they knew weren't holding Spot captive, like the elderly woman who couldn't quite figure out what Crutchie was trying to talk to her about. 

“Why are you fundraising now? Isn’t that in July?” 

Mush’s cheerful attitude came in handy then. 

“Yep, but it’s never too early to get a start! We’ve been fundraising for ages! After all, these next few months are gonna go by in a flash.”

He gave her a winning smile, which she returned. After about five minutes of Mush trying to get her to stop inviting them in, finally the group was able to leave. 

"This isn't working," Bumlets declared. "It takes too long. We should split up."

Jack nodded in agreement. 

"Race, Crutchie, you come with Davey and me. We'll take this half of the street. Bumlets, Blink, Mush, you go that way." He pointed off the other direction. 

"But we only have one saxophone," Blink pointed out.

"We can just talk really loud," Mush said, grabbing his hand and starting off. 

"Come on, we have ground to cover before Denton comes and murders David!"

David almost laughed at that. It was probably true, but he couldn't be all that worried. 

It still took much longer than David would have liked to make their way down the road. Factor in a delay where Jack nearly set a man on fire for talking down to Crutchie, and David was starting to really worry. 

He also couldn't help but be annoyed at the lack of police cars, seeing as they  _ had  _ sent Bryan the picture as soon as they got to Race's house, and that was a good half hour ago.

So what exactly was taking them so long to get over here and help them find Spot?

A kid with a saxophone was getting more done than local law enforcement. 

Absolutely useless.

David reached up to ring the doorbell on a house that had seen better days. It was grungy and overgrown, and the second he pressed the button, all hell broke loose. 

* * *

Spot was stuck in the kitchen, for however long his parents decided. Deirdre finally discovered that Spot had taken and hidden his phone, so after a painful "discussion" with Aiden, it was decided that Spot wasn't trustworthy, and had to be under constant supervision. 

Right now this meant he was "home" alone with Daniel while Aiden was out, probably meeting his dealer if history was any evidence. Deirdre was in the house somewhere, insisting she needed "me time" away from her many responsibilities that she completely ignored. 

And Spot couldn't lock himself away. He had to be within sight of Daniel, a fact that clearly pleased the older man immensely. 

He'd been drinking, which Spot didn't like one bit, and that meant no filter on his words or actions whatsoever. Spot was sick and tired of being called "gorgeous", "angelic"(what the fuck?), and "irresistible." 

Especially from someone like Daniel, who accompanied these words with an arm over his shoulder, and once by slapping his ass. 

"Hey." Daniel didn't slur or mumble like Aiden and Deirdre did. His words sounded the same, just creepier. 

"C'mere, kid." He put a hand behind Spot's neck and forced him to come close, planting a kiss directly on Spot's mouth.

"What the hell, Daniel? Fuck off!" Spot snapped, shoving the man away as hard as he could. 

"Come on, kid. You know you want it." Daniel grabbed Spot's wrists, keeping him still. 

The man leaned into Spot, forcing him against the wall. 

Spot squirmed, trying and failing to get away from Daniel, from his mouth tracing along Spot's collarbone and neck. 

"Get off me!"

He could sound fierce and angry, but  _ God _ , Spot was just scared. 

_ Please, no. Anything else. Not this.  _

He could feel Daniel's excitement in his hands, his lips, his-  _ no. God, please no.  _

Spot hadn't let them see him cry, no matter what. Not ever. But this? This was too much. 

Spot screamed in fear, anger, dread, he didn't even know anymore. He wanted Daniel  _ off _ . 

But the man was too big. Stronger and larger than Spot in every way, he was so close, so much. So much hurt.

His yells were muffled by Daniel forcing another kiss, then moving on to bite at Spot's arms and neck. It didn't matter anyway; there was nobody to hear. Nobody who would care, anyway. 

"Please, stop." Spot was begging now, sobbing as Daniel ignored his pleas, growling and groaning with pleasure as he pressed his body into Spot's much smaller form. 

He was being crushed. It fucking  _ hurt.  _ This was so sudden, but really, Spot figured he probably should have expected it sooner or later. 

One brief moment of not being crushed as Daniel pulled him away from the wall, and then Spot was slammed roughly against the counter. He yelped like a puppy with its tail stepped on at the painful stab of the knob in his back. 

Daniel kept one arm across Spot's chest, and with the other reached for the zipper on his jeans. The man tugged it down and reached one large hand over the elastic on Spot's boxers. 

"Please, Daniel. Please, don't." Spot sobbed, trying desperately to pull away from the hand.

He couldn't keep back a cry, was it pain or fear or just general brokenness? Spot didn't know. It didn't matter. 

"Let me go! I don't want this, Daniel,  _ please!" _ Spot hated this, hated begging Daniel to stop, to leave him alone, hated being so weak, so helpless. He couldn't stop it himself. Spot could only beg Daniel to let him go, beg for mercy from someone he already knew wasn't capable of showing it. 

Daniel just smiled, horrible and shark-like. He twisted Spot around, forcing his stomach into the edge of the counter and pinning his arm behind him. 

"Please, please no. Mama!" He choked desperately. If she had ever loved him like she claimed, even a little bit…

She didn't come. 

Daniel slapped him, hard. Spot whimpered like a pathetic little animal stuck in a trap. 

"Grow up. You know how long I've been waiting to get my hands on your pretty little body?"

_ Grow up. I don't want to grow up. Not like this. This isn't how it's supposed to be.  _

Spot wasn't an expert on love or sex or anything like that, but he knew one thing. If you had to force someone to do it, you were wrong. So wrong. 

Spot whimpered again as Daniel undid his own belt, flinched away from the hand now gripping his hip painfully tight. 

"Daniel…"

Spot gasped and choked on stifled sobs, begging to whatever god might exist to just let him die now, let it end. 

"Please," Spot whispered, tears streaming down his face and making stray hairs stick to his cheeks.

"Don't worry." Daniel's voice went all soft and  _ caring _ , so obviously fake that it made Spot sick. 

"I'll be gentle. You'll like it, just wait and see. I know what I'm doing."

That was not a promise Spot wanted to see come true. 

Just as the man hooked one finger over the waist of Spot's jeans, tugging to get them down, the doorbell rang. Daniel turned, distracted for just a moment. That was enough. 

Time might as well have frozen. 

Spot reached for something, anything, anything he could use to fight back. His fingers closed around the smooth handle of a kitchen knife. 

He didn't think, didn't hesitate. Just shoved it hard against Daniel's side. 

A horrible scream came from the man as blood started to pour and he stepped away from Spot. 

He took advantage of the moment and ran, grateful for the foresight to keep his shoes on all the time, just in case, as he bolted out into the snowy backyard. 

Spot didn't stop to think. He ran, wanting only to get away from that house. That house and everything and everyone inside it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary :  
> David and Co. go around knocking on doors and such in 2 small groups. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Daniel is the absolute worst, but is distracted by the doorbell ringing. Spot stabs him and runs.   
> End of chapter.   
> DunDunDunnnnnnnn


	37. Jack is a good boyfriend and also has no filter (Spot&Jack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No actual violence happens in this chapter, but mentions of violence and such. 
> 
> Things will soon be getting better. I just couldn't stand it anymore tbh.  
> Needed some hugging, so Jack/David delivered for me because they're cute.

Spot ran until he couldn't run anymore. He fell down in the snow, shivering as he tried not to cry anymore. 

Spot wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth in a desperate attempt to calm the panic rising in his chest. 

Now what? It was cold, and getting late. He still had a few hours before dark, but Spot couldn't just stay out in the open. He realized with a sickening feeling that he would be in serious trouble for this. 

Spot had gotten into fights, occasionally using "illegal substances" or spray painting on the school walls, but nothing like this. 

People could maybe overlook vandalism, or even somebody getting a bone broken. That was just "delinquent kid acting out."

Stabbing someone didn't fall under that category. 

The give of Daniel's flesh was the worst thing Spot had ever felt, but he didn't regret it one bit. 

What he really wanted more than anything was to just go home, but then what? Wait around for the police to show up and take him away? 

He couldn't do that. Just thinking about how that would affect Les made Spot feel more guilt than he could stand. 

Spot shivered, struggling to his feet. He really was not dressed for this weather at all. 

He took in his surroundings. Mostly office buildings, and they looked to be more or less empty. That made sense. It was nearly five, or at least, Spot thought it was, so there would only be cleaning staff, if that. 

Spot wandered around, looking for someplace to at least get out of the wind. He finally managed to cram himself behind some shipping pallets, sheltered, clean-ish, and most importantly, nobody would think to look for a runaway who'd probably just recently murdered someone.

Spot couldn't see the sky, but he was aware from the dimming light that the sun must be going down. It was going to get colder soon, he didn't have a jacket, and his clothes were still damp from running and falling in the snow. 

This was all just so fucked. Spot shivered. He wanted to go home, but he didn't have a home anymore. Even if they wanted him, there was no way Jonathan would let Spot stay, not after this. 

Spot curled up a little tighter around himself. He should try to get some sleep now, that way once it got dark he could move to keep warm. 

Plus, if he was sleeping, he wasn't thinking, and Spot really needed a break from his mind right now. 

* * *

Jack was going to stab himself with Racetrack's saxophone. Nevermind the fact that the saxophone wasn't all that pointy, he'd make it work. 

They had completely failed Spot. He needed them, everyone was sure of it, but now  _ nobody  _ knew where he was. 

As bad as Jack felt, he knew David had it way worse. The failure of a plan was his idea, and also he happened to have a dad who was absolutely livid come pick all of them up. 

That was not a fun car ride at all. 

Jack did not want to think about what his mother would say when he got home. She'd be so disappointed...

It was just a good thing Denton didn't think to call Race's mom, or she'd absolutely kill him, learn necromancy to bring him back to life, and then kill him again. 

"I cannot  _ believe _ you would do something so irresponsible, David. I thought I could trust you. What exactly were you thinking?"

Jack was pretty sure none of them had ever seen Denton actually mad before. 

"I told you to wait, David. Wait for the police. Why? Why didn't you listen to me?"

Denton wasn't quite yelling, but Jack could feel David's hand trembling in his. He was trying not to fidget or bite his nails, Jack could tell. 

The worst part was that they all knew Denton was right. Spot could be hurt now, because of them. 

They rang the stupid doorbell, and then everything went to shit. 

Screaming, a lady running out in her bathrobe, police finally showing up, blood everywhere and nobody was sure whose it was. They all just prayed it wasn't Spot's. 

Jack hadn't seen a dead body except for at his dad's funeral, and he was a little kid for that. Seeing a stranger covered in blood after following a hysterical woman who was apparently Spot's mother… well, that was a lot. 

It was a lot for all of them. David leaned on Jack's shoulder, trembling ever so slightly. Jack could tell he was getting overwhelmed. Why didn't Denton notice? He just kept lecturing, making things worse and worse. 

David started to cry, silent tears that made Jack more upset than he'd been all day. 

He put one arm around David and his boyfriend leaned heavily against him, sniffling just a tiny bit. 

Denton still didn't notice, focused half on the road, half on his justifiably angry rant. 

"Please don't hate me," David whispered, so quiet that it was amazing Denton could have heard it. 

Jack couldn't stand it anymore. How  _ dare _ Denton make David hurt like this? Even if he was  _ right, _ he didn't have to act like this, not when Davey was already having one of his shutdowns. 

"Denton, shut up," he snapped, to the horror of everybody in the car. "We get it. We fucked up. Everybody fucking knows it. Leave David alone. It wasn't just him. Yell at me for a change."

Denton screeched the car to a stop on the side of the road, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself.

David twitched, covering his head with one arm, and Jack felt even worse. 

He wasn't helping things by being a dick to David's dad, that was for sure. 

Denton would never, ever hurt David, or any of the kids, Jack knew that. But David didn't like it loud, didn't like attention or chaos or anything that they'd done today. 

Jack realized with a stabbing pain that David really had put himself through a lot to try and find Spot, and all for nothing. 

"Jack," David mumbled, pressing his face into Jack's shirt to block out the world. Jack covered his ears, desperately trying to help in any way he could. 

"Oh, David." Denton's voice was gentle now. He twisted around, putting one hand on David's leg, careful not to touch him too much. This was the man Jack recognized from all the time he'd spent at their house. 

"Bryan, I'm sorry," David whispered into Jack's chest. 

"David, kiddo, it's…" he sighed. "Well, it's not  _ okay, _ but I know that you were only trying to help. But kid, that was really stupid."

David nodded, brushing away his tears on Jack's flannel. 

"Bryan, I didn't- I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I-Spot, what if-" he stumbled on the words, and Jack's heart shattered. He didn't really  _ get along _ with Spot all that well, but he was still Davey's brother, and kinda a shrimp. Jack couldn't help but want to protect him, even if the dumbass didn't want protection. 

"We're going to find him," Bryan said, stretching a bit to wipe a stray tear from David's cheek. 

"David, we can talk more at home. But I promise, I do not hate you. I will never hate you, okay?" 

David nodded slowly. 

"Okay. I'll drop everyone off, and then we can go home and wait for an update on Sean."

The rest of the drive, dropping off all the boys at their respective homes, passed in relative silence, a relief compared to the lecture from earlier. 

It was dark by the time they reached Jack's house, and just as Denton pulled into the driveway, his phone rang. 

"Hello? Jonathan?"

He paused, then gave a little choking noise. 

"Oh, thank God! I'll be right there."

He hung up, and Jack could see tears shining in the man's eyes. 

"They found him, David. They found him."


	38. Idk man, titles are hard when ur sobbing (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I read a fic that literally was so good I threw up, so that's a thing that happened.  
> If you wanna sob, read 72 Hours.  
> It's amazing and awful and heartbreaking and just... gah. 
> 
> Anyways here's Spot being happy and safe because after reading that, I fucking needed it.

Spot woke up with a jolt. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but it was dark. Dark, and there were people. 

He could hear them moving around, voices he didn't recognize and lights shining through the cracks in the pallets. 

Spot's heart pounded so fiercely they'd probably find him by sound alone. They had a dog, he realized. Well, a dog would find him, but it couldn't get to him, thanks to the genius idea of wedging a pallet in the gap he'd wiggled in through. 

Yep, the dog found him, and was currently barking it's stupid head off. Spot tried not to make any sound, just in case. 

"She's found something, at least," a voice Spot didn't recognize said, shining a light towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning to hide his face. It didn't matter. 

"Sean? Is that you?" Spot stayed as still as possible. 

"It's alright, kid. We're here to help. Come on out of there, alright?"

Absolutely the fuck not. Spot wasn't moving, especially not with a huge demented dog out there. 

"Kid, come on out. You're safe now." 

_ Yeah, right.  _

Spot wasn't that stupid. If he stayed right here, maybe they'd leave eventually. Probably not. 

The voices spoke quietly, and Spot couldn't quite make out what was being said. That made him nervous, seeing as it was probably about him. 

He did catch something about the pallets being unsteady, which would explain why they didn't just pull them away and force him out like a mouse living in the walls. 

Wouldn't want him to get squished before they arrested him for murder. 

Spot wasn't going to move, no matter how many times they promised it was safe. How was he supposed to trust that? If they'd bothered to find him in the first place, none of this would have happened. 

He wouldn't have been stuck in that house, getting hit and kicked and touched until he finally broke. 

Spot sniffled, burying his face in his arms. He wasn't crying. He absolutely was not. 

A new voice came, one Spot recognized. One he trusted, absolutely and totally. 

"Sean?" 

Bryan. The only person Spot even sort of wanted to see right now. 

"Sean, baby, it's me. It's Bryan. Please come out."

Spot wasn't a  _ baby _ , so he didn't appreciate that particular word choice. And the dog was still there. 

"Hey, can you take the dog somewhere else, please?" How Bryan managed to still be polite was a mystery to Spot, but he appreciated the dog going away.

"He's scared of dogs," Bryan explained, the liar. Dogs just made Spot nervous, especially demented ones that barked like they wanted to eat his limbs. 

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to wiggle out of his hiding spot, of course. His pettiness didn't stretch that far, or at least, not this time it didn't. He was too cold and too tired and he really wanted Bryan. 

He blinked at all the lights stinging his eyes. Was all this really necessary?

There were police everywhere, but Spot didn't care. He only saw the one person he needed. Bryan. 

He knelt in the snowy parking lot, wearing one of his many stupid sweaters and looked so very very tired. Spot reached out, probably looking very much like a baby, but he couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed about it. 

The man wrapped him in a tight hug, holding on like Spot might just float away if he let go. He leaned in, hiding from the world. He hurt all over after being so cramped for so long, and it was chilly out here without a jacket, but Bryan was warm and he was good. 

Spot was surprised to find that he wasn't crying, as much as he felt like he should be. Maybe they really had broken him. 

"My beautiful, beautiful boy," Bryan's voice was thick with emotion, one hand cradling Spot's head and the other around his waist. 

Oh, there the crying was. Could tears freeze on your face? Spot hoped not. That would suck. 

There were so many lights, so bright, he was so tired… It hurt to open his eyes. Everything hurt. His sides where Aiden hit him, his legs from curling up for hours, his stomach, his head, chest, arms, everything. 

"Bryan, Bryan, I'm sorry," he choked, clinging to the man's sweater. 

"Baby, why are you sorry?"

Bryan cupped Spot's face in his hands, gently brushing away the tears.

Spot didn't mind being called baby, not when Bryan said it, not like that. 

"I don't know. I'm sorry," Spot sobbed, leaning into Bryan's arms. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Bryan rocked him side to side, murmuring reassurances and rubbing his spine comfortingly. 

Bryan, who he'd said he hated the last time they were together. Bryan who had every right to hate him back. Bryan was holding him, keeping everything from falling into a million pieces. 

"I didn't mean it. I didn't. I don't hate you, Bryan."

"Oh, Sean…"

Bryan ran a hand through Spot's hair, and he shuddered. Was it relief? The memory of Daniel's hands in his hair, on his back, all over…

Spot choked on another sob, and Bryan pulled Spot into his lap, wrapping him just a bit tighter. 

"Sean, it's okay. I've got you. You're safe now."

They might have sat there for a minute, or it might have been an hour. Spot didn't know, and he didn't care. All that mattered was Bryan holding him close, breathing in time with that steadiness. At some point, the man must have picked him up and carried him into a car. Spot wondered who was driving, since Bryan still held him tight. 

It didn't matter. 

He was still wrapped in Bryan's arms, and that was the safest place Spot knew. 

Bryan still wanted him. After everything that happened, he wanted Spot to stay. Forever. 


	39. Juice (Jonathan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write a chapter from Spot's perspective, but it just wasn't happening for some reason, so here's Jonathan's, while I battle writer's block. 
> 
> Note : idk how this legal social work stuff works and google wasn't helping, so I just kinda be out here doin my best.

Jonathan, for his part, did his best to keep any of the kids in his care from up and disappearing. In fact, Sean was the only one who ever seemed to cause him that problem. 

This time, he couldn't blame the kid. He'd been taken, not just run off like normally. 

Jonathan truly felt terrible for assuming he'd run, but history indicated that was the most likely explanation. 

The boy climbed out of the car, having spent the ride to the hospital curled up, technically illegally, in Bryan's lap. 

This hospital visit shouldn't take more than an hour or two, and then the kid could get home for some clearly much-needed rest. Jonathan could use some rest too, after a day like today, or really, yesterday. Sean had stabbed a man, in self defense, but still, and then the boy just ran off, and they had to search to find him. 

Nothing was ever easy with that kid.

As he stepped out of the car Sean shivered at the cold. Suddenly, something changed. Jonathan saw something different. Something he hadn't seen in far too long. 

Sean was so much more than a headache, or a particularly stubborn, difficult part of Jonathan's job. He was scared, he was hurt, he was cold. He was a  _ child _ .

The boy looked eerily similar to the way he had when Jonathan first met him. 

He'd been younger, of course, but so had Jonathan. Fresh out of college, ready to save the world. He'd been so naive. The first case he'd been assigned, and he had a little information on the new boy. More than he could usually expect, he now knew. 

The officers told him everything they knew about Sean. He was four years old, his parents had just been convicted for drug abuse and child endangerment, he looked underweight. Jonathan was prepared to see a neglected child. He'd seen some bad things, even just in pictures. He thought he would be ready. 

Nothing could have prepared him for that boy. That tiny, frightened, bruised little shell of a child, shivering in the police department, that boy who nobody gave more than a passing glance.

Things were different up close and personal.

His jacket was several sizes too big, and made him look even smaller. He kicked his feet, staring at the ground. Somebody had given the kid a little box of animal crackers that he hadn't bothered finishing, and a bottle of apple juice that he hadn't opened. 

Maybe he didn't know how, with his chubby little hands. All these adults, and not one thought to help. 

It really showed Sean's stubborn, strong side that even then, hardly more than a baby, he didn't cry. He trembled just a bit, but tried to hide it. Tried to be brave. 

Jonathan still remembered their first conversation. 

"Hey there." He'd knelt next to the chair, not wanting to tower over the kid. 

"My name's Jonathan. I'm going to be looking out for you for a little while, okay?"

Sean blinked those big, clear eyes up at him, speaking with a little touch of a lisp, hardly noticeable, really.

"I'm Sean." His mouth trembled just the slightest bit. 

"How are you feeling, Sean?" Jonathan had asked, as gently as he could. 

"My tummy hurts," little Sean confessed, as if it were some grave secret. 

"I'm thirsty, but I can't get it open." He gestured to the apple juice, and then, with that one wall broken down, he cried. Just a few fat tears down his face, and Jonathan twisted the cap easily off the bottle. It took half a second, yet nobody else bothered to show that little compassion.

Sean sniffled and drank the juice greedily, still crying a little. 

The boy coughed, choking and sputtering on a gulp that was just a bit too big. But he didn't seem to want to stop and breathe, so Jonathan gently stopped him from drowning himself in apple juice.

"Hey, slow down there," Jonathan laughed lightly. "You're gonna make yourself sick."

Sean's face changed when the juice was taken away. Panic filled his eyes and he started crying for real, gasping and reaching desperately to get it back. "No! Give it back! I won't spill it! I promise! Please!" He begged, face red and streaked with tears. 

"Okay, okay," Jonathan soothed, putting the precious drink back into the grasping little hands, now shaking so hard he nearly dropped the bottle.

"Let me help you." He tilted the juice for the kid, letting him sip carefully, then tried to get him to eat the discarded crackers. 

They'd sat in that police station for a long time, if he remembered correctly. Just trying to show the kid that he was safe, that he had someone to trust now. 

Jonathan had put an arm around those skinny little shoulders and held tight until the boy fell asleep in his lap, curled up like a puppy. He'd carried him out to the car, and off they drove, getting Sean to a placement that was meant to stick until the court case was over. 

It should have stuck. They were nice people, and it was only a few months at the very most, more likely less. 

But things didn't work out, and shortly after, Jonathan was back to pick him up and drive to a new place. 

They had been close in those early days, Jonathan reflected, mostly because Sean had  _ needed _ someone to be close.

But that had changed over the years. Sean got bigger, angrier, built up more walls with every failed placement, and Jonathan didn't fight to stay close. 

He didn't hold on to that kid who still needed love and safety and something to cling to when he had nothing. 

That kid who had been  _ beaten _ , horribly abused, and Jonathan didn't know, because he never pressed the issue. Never asked, not  _ really.  _

That kid who had been sick for years, chronic pain never treated, because nobody cared enough. 

But Jonathan was supposed to be the one who cared. 

He'd spent ten years working with Sean. Ten years of keeping the boy at a distance, protecting only  _ himself. _ He wasn't there for Sean when he needed it. He wasn't there when the kid simply needed a  _ friend.  _

Jonathan had been little more than a shuttle between home after failed home, checking in occasionally, ticking boxes of safety but never asking if Sean was happy, if he felt safe and loved and  _ wanted _ . 

When had Jonathan gotten so blind? How had he ignored Sean for so long?

Bryan had done more for the boy in a matter of months than Jonathan had done in ten years. Just looking at them together, the way Sean leaned into the man, complete trust that Bryan would stay, would keep him safe, was clear proof of that.

Sean could be vulnerable thanks to Bryan and his other children. Maybe not often, but he could do it. He could step out of the walls he'd built to protect himself and let the world see him, if only for a fleeting moment here or there. 

Sean hated being cold. Jonathan remembered that much, at least. He took off his coat and put it around the boy's shoulders. He looked up in surprise, but didn't protest. 

The surprise hit hard. Sean didn't expect Jonathan to care, and he knew it was absolutely and completely his own fault. He'd always cared, sure, but never shown it nearly enough. 

He had just let Sean suffer alone. He didn't deserve that. No child deserved to be alone like that.

But Sean was okay, or at least, he would be. Jonathan watched the boy, taking in the way he leaned on Bryan for comfort and reassurance. 

That brought another stab of guilt when Jonathan remembered how he'd tried to get Sean removed from Bryan's care. 

Truly, he had thought it would be better for Sean, but that was just so obviously wrong, it just proved once again that Jonathan was disconnected from Sean's life. 

He would do better, Jonathan swore to himself. Maybe not with Sean, since hopefully his time in the system was coming to a close, but Jonathan would do better with the next child, and the next child, and the next. 

Because there would be more. More children left on their own, needing someone to hold things together and wipe away the tears,  and Jonathan would be there for them.  _ Really _ there. He'd be there for them until there wasn't anyone left to be there for. Until everyone found a good, safe home.

Maybe that was an impossible dream, but impossible things happened every day, if you just worked to make them happen. 

Sean's tiny smile when he saw a nurse he recognized was living proof of that. 


	40. Home (Spot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are getting near the end of this story, but do not fear! (Or rejoice, if you dont like this fic, in which case, why are yiu reading it?)  
> I have a bit left for this installment, and after that, I will be posting more snippets, but likely as one-shot type things of life for Spot and Co. 
> 
> I humbly beg thee, send me requests on tumblr @maggs-posts-trash

The car slowed, and Spot uncurled just enough to see where they were. The hospital? Why? 

His mind raced to find a reason. 

Was Daniel here? They couldn't make him go see Daniel. He wouldn't do it. Never. Not after  _ that _ . Spot didn't want to run away again, but if he had to, he would. 

God, he was shaking really bad now. 

"Shh, baby, it's okay," Bryan soothed. The man rubbed little circles on Spot's shaking back, murmuring comforting words that Spot couldn't get his brain to focus on. 

"Bryan, why are we here?" His voice came out in barely a whisper, terrified of what the answer might be. Nothing good happened here. The hospital was pain and fear and everything just being horrible. And he didn't need to be here, Spot was sure of that. He was fine. 

Bryan apparently wasn't sure of it, though.

"We need to make sure you're okay, buddy. You're probably dehydrated, haven't had your meds in awhile, and those bruises don't look so good."

Spot whimpered again at the mention of all the ways he was currently fucked up, and then burrowed his face into Bryan's shoulder. Sure, Bryan was probably right, but he didn't have to like it. 

"Don't worry, Sean. We'll go home as soon as they're done."

"Spot?" 

He nearly jumped out of Bryan's arms in surprise. Spot had no idea David was even in the car with them, he'd been so quiet. 

"I'm sorry it took us so long to find you."

Spot stared at David in surprise. David had looked for him? Why? He'd found him? Spot had assumed that the police just found him after Deirdre must have called them over the whole stabbing thing. 

David was pretty clearly emotional about it, though. Why was he acting like an idiot about everything? He seemed more upset than Spot, and he'd just recently stabbed someone in the gut.

"I mean, when we heard that scream-" David choked out, rubbing his arms nervously. "I just, Spot, I'm sorry if us showing up got you hurt."

Spot shifted as Jonathan, who was apparently the one driving, turned off the car. 

"The doorbell was you?"

David nodded, tears racing down his face. 

"I'm sor-"

Spot interrupted the apology by pushing off Bryan and slamming himself into David's arms, throwing a tight hug and scrambling words that probably made no sense onto his brother. Hopefully David could get the gist of how incredibly grateful Spot was. 

"Thank you, David, thank you. I can't- if you hadn't-" David hugged him back, clearly not sure what to say. 

"I, um, okay. What happened?"

Spot stiffened. He did  _ not _ want to talk about it. 

Not now, maybe not ever. Maybe he could just pretend it didn't happen at all. 

Luckily, Bryan seemed to sense his discomfort and changed the subject.

"Let's go inside," the man suggested, gently guiding Spot and David from the car. Spot shivered in the night air. He didn't have a jacket or anything, just his t-shirt, and it was really cold. 

Jonathan surprised Spot by giving him his coat. It was entirely too big, and smelled like some kind of very flowery laundry detergent, but still, he was much warmer now. Jonathan had a heart, apparently. 

They weren't at the hospital too long, and Skittery was the nurse stuck with him, so Spot at least knew the person probing and poking at him. And Skittery knew when to shut up, like now. 

He worked fast, and only asked the questions he absolutely had to. Questions like, "does this hurt", and the answer was almost always "yes". 

What he didn't ask, and what Spot didn't want to answer, was "what happened? Why did you stab him? What made you run?"

Spot didn't want to think about it, and he sure wasn't going to talk about it either. 

A doctor Spot didn't know came in, asked Spot a bunch of questions, which thankfully, Bryan was able to answer most of, and then they were allowed to leave. Finally. 

Thet got up to leave, but Spot was caught off guard by a pair of arms, most likely belonging to Skittery, since they were attached to his torso, being thrown around his shoulders. 

Spot stiffened in surprise, but then returned the embrace. Were nurses supposed to hug their patients? Probably not, but if Skittery started it, Spot wasn't going to turn it down. 

When Skittery backed away, he had tears in his eyes. Spot pretended not to notice. 

"I'll see you later, Spot. Hopefully somewhere better, yeah?"

Spot gave him a little smile. 

"Yeah. See you, Skitz."

Spot managed, by some miracle, to get back to the car without collapsing from exhaustion. He flopped back in the seat, ignoring the buckle in favor of leaning against the door. 

David climbed in next to him and buckled himself, then hesitated just a moment before reaching over and strapping Spot in too.

David was neurotic about things like that, but Spot supposed that was fair. His parents had  _ died _ in a car crash, and that would put anybody on edge. 

That realization did make Spot feel pretty guilty for making fun of David's driving, though. He'd probably drive like an old lady too if he'd lost somebody in a crash, and were old enough to drive. 

Spot felt guilty, but mostly tired. He could feel bad later. Tomorrow. Or today? What time was it? Spot had no idea. How far were they from home? And why was his arm so itchy? Oh, yeah, they'd stuck him with a needle again. 

Fucking Skittery, the traitor. Poking at Spot and making sure he _li_ _ved,_ the jerk.

Spot felt whatever was under his head move, which was annoying. 

David was tapping his arm lightly. 

_ What do you want, David?  _

David didn't respond. Oh, Spot hadn't actually said it out loud, had he? Just thought it, and David, thank God, did not possess mind reading abilities.

"What?" Spot mumbled, moving away from where he'd apparently fallen asleep on his brother. 

"Wake up, we're home." David gave a tiny smile, one that Spot couldn't help but return.

Home. 


	41. The End (Denton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, this is the end of this fic!  
> I've still got some little ideas that I'm gonna use to write shorter stories about these same character whatevers, and like I said before, I take suggestions!  
> My tumblr is @maggs-posts-trash, and if you're active on the Newsies Amino App, I'm Maggs|Mutts.
> 
> Plz talk to me, am lonely.

Bryan wandered the house shortly after sunrise, keeping as quiet as he could manage. He hadn't been nearly as tired as expected, and he didn't have a problem being the only one awake. 

Except for maybe Sarah. That girl was up at all kinds of strange hours, yet she never seemed tired, so Bryan left her alone about it. 

The point was, all of the kids, all of  _ his  _ kids, were safe at home for the first time in entirely too long. 

Bryan couldn't help but check in on all of them, even though he knew fully well they were all in bed. 

Sarah was, as Bryan correctly guessed, already awake, looking out her bedroom window at the sunrise. 

She turned when he came in, and Bryan realized with a bittersweet pang that she wasn't his little Sarah with the colorfully decorated braids anymore. 

His girl was almost a woman, strange as it was to think, and a lovely one she was becoming.

"Morning, Bryan. Did I wake you?" she asked, still a bit sleepy. 

Sarah gave him a smile, and the little girl proudly handing Bryan a flower crown years before peeked out for just a moment before ducking back behind the young lady there now. 

Of course Sarah worried she'd woken him up. Nevermind the fact that she could move silent as a ghost if she wanted to, that girl cared about everyone. 

"No, I was already up," he assured her, half closing the door before continuing to Les' room.

Les slept in an  _ interesting  _ way. Honestly it was a miracle he was even asleep, considering how incredibly awkward the sprawling position looked. 

How did his leg even  _ bend _ that way? His knee touched his  _ ear.  _

That kid could sleep on the tip of a lightning rod. 

Bryan shook his head with a smile. Les shifted a bit, into another ridiculous position, and Bryan slipped out of the room to avoid waking him. 

David was still wearing his daytime clothes, so he must have just collapsed in bed as soon as they got home. 

The boy slept on his stomach, face buried in the pillow in such a way that it was a mystery as to how he didn't smother himself in his sleep. 

He had his weighted blanket up over his shoulders, arms curled tight to his chest. It was a position that really should look stiff, Bryan thought, but sleeping was one of those rare times that David relaxed completely. 

Bryan made a mental note to sit down and really apologize for shouting yesterday. David didn't take well to that kind of noise and anger, and really, Bryan had no right to be angry anymore, not after what Sean said. 

David ringing the doorbell had given him a chance to escape before that worthless apology for a man…

Bryan shook the thought from his head. It wouldn't be any good for the kids to wake up and have him angry. 

Especially not Sean, not after everything that had happened lately. 

Sean slept in a tight ball, almost painful-looking. He claimed it made his stomach hurt less, but honestly it looked like that might be the reason he complained about joint pain so much. 

Well, not exactly complained. Sean complained about things like being cold, or wearing clothes he didn't like. Not pain, even if it was practically crippling the poor kid. He'd collapse before letting anyone know about it. 

Sean had a furry little space heater cuddled in the back of his knees, as Jenny seemed determined to glue herself to Sean's side as soon as he'd come in the door. 

She'd made the weirdest sound Bryan had ever heard a cat make, somewhere between a screech, a purr, and a yodel, then immediately jumped into the boy's arms. 

The kid would probably sleep for a while, or at least Bryan hoped he would. Sean had been exhausted last night, falling asleep in the car and stumbling any time he tried to walk. He needed to rest, to heal. 

The boy shifted, like he could tell Bryan was watching him, even as he slept. 

Before Bryan could slip away, he was awake, sitting up with a little jerk of surprise. He blinked in confusion shrinking back in his bed fearfully. 

"Hey, Sean, it's okay." He rushed to the boy's side, putting a hand on his shoulder to help draw him out of whatever his mind had come up with. 

Bryan?" He whispered, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Yeah, buddy. I'm here."

Sean wrapped the blanket around his bare shoulders, hiding the bruises that broke Bryan's heart to see. 

"Don't leave me alone," he mumbled, almost like he didn't want to be heard. 

Bryan snorted a half-laugh, gently tweaking the boy's nose. 

"Kid, I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're thirty."

A smile crept onto Sean's face at that, and he leaned into Bryan's side, tugging Jenny into his lap. 

Bryan put an arm around his shoulder, realizing with a stab of sadness how much of a toll the time with his parents took on him, even just physically. 

Sean was so thin again, all elbows and ribcage. He'd been gaining weight, slowly becoming normal, and now he was back to being a fragile shell of a kid. 

Bryan wanted nothing more than to go to his sorry excuses for parents and shake them until they understood what they had done to this child. Until they knew exactly how he felt, to be small and vulnerable and afraid.

The only thing stopping him was the fact that, if Bryan was arrested, his kids would be alone, and he would never do that to any of them. 

Sean crawled half into Bryan's lap, slowly, like he wasn't sure he was allowed. Bryan shifted to make the boy more comfortable. He was completely happy to be a pillow. 

Bryan lay back in the bed with Sean's bare chest curled against his shirt, taking comfort in the fact that he was  _ here _ and he was  _ safe _ . Sean's thin, bony chest rose and fell, finally calm after over two weeks of misery and fear. 

He was awake, sort of. Bryan could tell by the way he breathed. Sean gripped the hem of his shirt tight, the other hand wrapped protectively around his own side.

He squirmed a bit until he was almost facing Bryan. 

"Bryan?" He sounded nervous, so Bryan was careful to keep his own voice as calm and gentle as possible. 

"Yes, Sean?" 

"Can I…" he trailed off, looking nervous again. 

He'd not been chewing his hands so badly lately, Bryan noted. That was at least one good thing to focus on. 

"Do you care… would it be okay…"

Sean focused intently on fidgeting with his blanket before bursting out, all in one breath, "Is it okay if I call you Dad?" 

Bryan's heart melted. 

"Of course, Sean. You can call me anything you want to. I love you, Sean. I love you so much." Bryan didn't even try to hide the way he choked on the words. He was emotional, and that was just fine. 

Sean smiled, a small one, but it was hopeful, and so wonderfully real. 

"I love you too… Dad."

Bryan pulled him close, unashamed of the tears that were falling into Sean's messy hair. 

Things were going to be okay. Finally, they'd be okay. 


	42. Not a real chapter

Hey so [here's a link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973786) to a one-shot in this same universe, wanted people to be able to find it if they bookmarked or were subscribed to this piece.

Likacskiesandroses suggested I write a bit where the bois are in like their thirties, and I thought that was adorable so i did it.


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